Harry Potter: Game of the Year Edition
by Casey W
Summary: Harry Potter dies in the graveyard of Little Hangleton. GAME OVER. Start new game? Concept borrowed from Majin Hentai X and Chibi-Reaper.
1. Little Mortalities

Necessary disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter franchise. Nor will I. It all belongs to JK Rowling and... her publisher, probably? Maybe the film people? Probably not the computer game people but I should specifically say I don't own the rights to the games either. I make no money from this. I think that covers everything.

Sections of this chapter were quoted directly from Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. Again, don't own it.

-(-)-

Wormtail was speaking. His voice shook; he seemed frightened beyond his wits. He raised his wand, closed his eyes, and spoke to the night.

"Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son!"

The surface of the grave at Harry's feet cracked. Horrified, Harry watched as a fine trickle of dust rose into the air at Wormtail's command and fell softly into the cauldron. The diamond surface of the water broke and hissed; it sent sparks in all directions and turned a vivid, poisonous-looking blue.

And now Wormtail was whimpering. He pulled a long, thin, shining silver dagger from inside his cloak. His voice broke into petrified sobs.

"Flesh - of the servant - w-willingly given - you will - revive - your master."

He stretched his right hand out in front of him - the hand with the missing finger. He gripped the dagger very tightly in his left hand and swung it upward.

Harry realized what Wormtail was about to do a second before it happened – he closed his eyes as tightly as he could, but he could not block the scream that pierced the night, that went through Harry as though he had been stabbed with the dagger too. He heard something fall to the ground, heard Wormtail's anguished panting, then a sickening splash, as something was dropped into the cauldron.

Harry couldn't stand to look… but the potion had turned a burning red; the light of it shone through Harry's closed eyelids…

Wormtail was gasping and moaning with agony. Not until Harry felt Wormtail's anguished breath on his face did he realize that Wormtail was right in front of him.

"B-blood of the enemy… forcibly taken… you will… resurrect your foe."

Harry could do nothing to prevent it, he was tied too tightly… Squinting down, struggling hopelessly at the ropes binding him, he saw the shining silver dagger shaking in Wormtails remaining hand. Harry felt the point pierce the soft flesh of his wrist and drag along the arm towards the elbow. There was pain as Wormtail collected some blood from the wound as it continued to flow out at an alarming rate.

Wormtail staggered back to the cauldron with Harry's blood. He poured it inside. The liquid within turned, instantly, a blinding white. Wormtail, his job done, dropped to his knees beside the cauldron, then slumped sideways and lay on the ground, cradling the bleeding stump of his arm, gasping and sobbing.

The cauldron was simmering, sending its diamond sparks in all directions, so blindingly bright that it turned all else to velvety blackness. Nothing happened…

'Let it have drowned.' Harry thought, 'let it have gone wrong…'

And then, suddenly, the sparks emanating from the cauldron were extinguished. A surge of white steam billowed thickly from the cauldron instead, obliterating everything in front of Harry, so that he couldn't see Wormtail or Cedric or anything but vapor hanging in the air… 'It's gone wrong', he thought… 'it's drowned… please… please let it be dead…'

But then, through the mist in front of him, he saw, with an icy surge of terror, the dark outline of a man, tall and skeletally thin, rising slowly from inside the cauldron.

"Robe me," said the high, cold voice from behind the steam, and Wormtail, sobbing and moaning, still cradling his mutilated arm, scrambled to pick up the black robes from the ground, got to his feet, reached up, and pulled them onehanded over his master's head.

The thin man stepped out of the cauldron, staring at Harry… and Harry stared back into the face that had haunted his nightmares for three years. Whiter than a skull, with wide, livid scarlet eyes and a nose that was flat as a snakes with slits for nostrils…

Lord Voldemort had risen again.

Voldemort looked away from Harry and began examining his own body. His hands were like large, pale spiders; his long white fingers caressed his own chest, his arms, his face; the red eyes, whose pupils were slits, like a cats, gleamed still more brightly through the darkness. He held up his hands and flexed the fingers, his expression rapt and exultant. He took not the slightest notice of Wormtail, who lay twitching and bleeding on the ground, nor of the great snake, which had slithered back into sight and was circling Harry again, hissing. Voldemort slipped one of those unnaturally long-fingered hands into a deep pocket and drew out a wand. He caressed it gently too; and then he raised it, and pointed it at Wormtail, who was lifted off the ground and thrown against the headstone where Harry was tied; he fell to the foot of it and lay there, crumpled up and crying. Voldemort turned his scarlet eyes upon Harry, laughing a high, cold, mirthless laugh. Wormtail's robes were shining with blood now; he had wrapped the stump of his arm in them.

Harry decided that was a brilliant idea and moved to wrap his own wound that had continued to bleed unheeded. Unfortunately his increasingly sluggish mind had forgotten he was tied to a heastone, leaving him rather incapable of doing... anything at all, really.

A bad sign, that.

At least it didn't hurt anymore. The pain was rather bothersome for a while there. And the feeling that he was falling was making him feel ill. Odd, that, considering how much he enjoyed that feeling while on his broom. His eyelids grew increasingly heavy until mercifully they fell over his eyes, allowing him to slip into sweet unconsciousness.

And shock.

His escape from the horror show he found himself in was painfully brief, however, lasting only a few minutes. Long enough for Voldemort to notice the boy's worsening condition. "Wake him." Lord Voldemort ordered, "he should be awake for this. This is his story I'm telling. It is only proper for him to see how it ends."

Two of the nearer Death Eaters sent _Enervate_ spells at Harry, waking him with some urgency. His mind was by no means fully functioning at this point, though. More running along basic ideas like 'bad people, bad place, have to get away'. All facts, but the how for getting away was far beyond him already.

He needed help. But none would be coming this time.

"Such plans I had for our reunion, Harry Potter." Lord Voldemort said in his unsettling voice. "Recounting all of your valiant deeds in front of my gathered followers only to torture you into madness afterwards. Facing you in a duel, only to mercilessly destroy you without effort. But you won't understand my words, won't feel the pain I inflict upon your very soul and I wager you couldn't even _hold_ your wand by now, let alone use it." Voldemort sighed dramatically. "Indeed. Wormtail's... overzealous actions have had unfortunate consequences. So we must move ahead to the main event." he finished as he raised his wand.

Before swaying out of the path of a poorly aimed _Expelliarmus _fired by Wormtail. "What is the meaning of-" he snarled before whirling on his apparent betrayer. "Oh, of course. Life Debt. Well that is easily solved. _Crucio_!" he hissed and the rat like man was suddenly in excruciating pain. The Dark Lord plucked the man's wand from his hand and returned to his original task. "I'm sorry, where were we? Ah, yes."

"_Sectumsempra_!"

The spell shot from Voldemort's wand. The instant it hit Harry's neck it cut clean through, neatly decapitating him. As Harry realised what had happened in his last few seconds of life, he had the strangest thought.

'Nick is going to be so jealous!'

And then he was gone. Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived, prophecised saviour of the wizarding world was no more.

"How convenient we have a perfect venue to announce this..._tragedy_ to the world." Lord Voldemort mused aloud as he spotted the discarded Tri-Wizard cup lying in the dirt.

The audience of the Tri-Wizard tournament had been eagerly awaiting the appearance of the victor of the auspicious event on the field in front of the maze. Some were getting restless, others worried for the competitors. The traps in that maze were nothing to sneeze at.

So when the portkey-charmed cup returned there was thunderous applause, the crowd thinking the winner had returned.

Then, seemingly as one, they noticed there was no one holding the cup. Rather, the cup was holding something.

Reactions were... mixed. Screams were common. Vomiting not so common. Wide-eyed, stunned silence covered a significant percentage. Including two fourth-year Gryffindors who couldn't quite put the pieces together as their mutual friend's head stared back at them from its place within the cup.

One old man spent a split-second mourning the boy he supposedly cared for, before moving on to more important matters. Like how his plans needed to change without the Boy-Who-Lived.

-(-)-

With a flash of light, Harry appeared whole once again in an entirely unfamiliar place, utterly confused. He was fairly certain he had just been killed, rather gruesomely, at that. He put both hands to his neck to check for cuts but found none, the same was true for his arm that had previously been sliced open.

"... Bloody hell, I really am dead aren't I?" Harry asked the empty air, looking around at the room he was in, decorated with ancient Greek architecture, oddly enough. "Not really what I was expecting from Heaven... or Hell. Wait, I'm not in Hell, am I?" he asked in sudden panic. The Dursleys had quoted that 'thou shalt not suffer a witch to live' stuff at him often enough and Harry figured the primary concern of that line wasn't gender.

The pure white wall directly in front of him suddenly changed to a deep blue colour with an appearance of a misty twilight sky. A mysterious yet meloncholy tune started to play from somewhere, composed entirely of beeping sounds. To Harry, it seemed both familiar and not and he was having trouble remembering where he had heard something similar. All of a sudden it came to him. "That sounds like one of Dudley's-"

Large white letters appeared on the wall.

**GAME OVER**

**YOU LOSE**

"-computer games." Harry finished. "Brilliant. At least the afterlife has a sense of humour."

**Score**

**Age fourteen: 140 points**

**'Defeated' Lord Voldemort: 1 point**

**Survived Dursleys: 50 points**

**Passed third year: 60 points**

**Passed divination (1): 3 points**

**Passed Care of Magical Creatures (1): 5 points**

**'Earned' friend (Ron): 10 points**

**Outflew Malfoy: 5 points**

**Joined Quidditch Team (Seeker): 5 points**

**Defeated Troll: 20 points (+10 Gryffindor bonus)**

**Earned friend (Hermione): 20 points**

**Earned Life Debt (Hermione): 20 points**

**Quidditch win (5): 50 points**

**Freed Norbert: 5 points**

**Passed Philosopher's Stone traps: 25 points**

**Defeated Quirrelmort: 50 points**

**Successfully spied on Malfoy: 10 points**

**Escaped acromantula nest: 20 points**

**Found Chamber of Secrets: 10 points**

**'Defeated' Lockhart: 1 point**

**Defeated basilisk: 200 points (+20 Gryffindor bonus)**

**Destroyed Riddlemort: 100 points**

**Earned Life Debt (Ginevra): 20 points**

**Freed Dobby: 10 points**

**Mastered patronus charm: 20 points**

**Rescued Buckbeak: 10 points**

**Earned Life Debt (Wormtail): 20 points**

**Defeated dementors: 30 points**

**Rescued Sirius: 50 points**

**Defeated a dragon: 60 points**

**Earned friend (Cedric): 20 points**

**Second task: 40 points**

**Third task: 50 points**

**Subtotal: 1170 points**

**Tolerated Ron (3): - 70 points**

**Trapped by Mirror of Erised: - 10 points**

**Caught breaking rules (3): - 30 points**

**Blindly trusted Dumbledore: - 50 points**

**Crashed Weasley car: - 20 points (+5 Gryffindor bonus)**

**Alienated the School (2): - 40 points (+10 Gryffindor bonus)**

**Defeated by dementor (3): - 60 points**

**Quidditch loss: - 10 points**

**Allowed Wormtail to escape: - 100 points**

**The Yule Ball: - 200 points**

**Friend (Cedric) killed: - 500 points**

**Killed by Lord Voldemort: - 500 points**

**Died a virgin: - 1000 points**

**Subtotal: - 2575 points**

**Final total: - 1405 points**

**Karma: positive: auror**

**Negative score! Unlocked Dunderhead Harry!**

**Defeated a dragon! Unlocked Dragon Slayer Harry!**

**Loved by the Weasleys! Unlocked Weasley Harry!**

**Secret unlocked! Played with time! Pause unlocked!**

"A sense of humour and loads of time on it's hands, then. Credit where it's due for the list though. It's pretty accurate. Though the 'died a virgin' bit is kind of harsh isn't it? I mean I was only fourt- Oh, right. Can't really use 'I lived all the way to fourteen years old' as the counterargument for anything, can I? And that stuff about Ron and Dumbledore was a bit weird. And should you add 'gone insane' to the end as well since I can't seem to stop talking to myself?"

**Continue?**

**YES**

**NO**

The sad beeping music had stopped, leaving Harry in silence again. "Continue. To what? To the real afterlife? What if I pick 'no'? Do I go back? But I'm dead so that would make me... a ghost. Bugger that, I'll take my chances with whatever comes next." Harry decided, again aloud, as he pressed his hand onto the 'yes' button.

**NEW GAME**

**LOAD GAME**

**EXTRAS**

**HELP**

The beeping music returned only less sad but with the same mysterious feel as before. What looked like a title screen had appeared with several options listed and the title of the 'game' at the top.

Said title being, of course, '**Harry Potter**'.

"Oh, piss off with the game rubbish already!" Harry griped, receiving no answer, not that he expected one anymore. "Fine. Help. Help me get past this stuff." he said, pressing said button.

**NEW GAME**

**Start a new adventure as Harry James Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived!**

**LOAD GAME**

**Continue a saved game from a previous session.**

**EXTRAS**

**Access secret options unlocked from previous playthroughs.**

"... Well that wasn't helpful at- wait. Does that mean I could go back and try again?" Harry asked. It would be brilliant if he could. He could save Cedric! Sirius! Capture Pettigrew! Fix all those negatives on that score from before! Course of action decided, he chose **LOAD GAME** only to find there were no save files. It made sense since he'd never heard of saving before he died. **NEW GAME** it was, then. So he started from first year again. So what? Just meant more things he could fix, right?

As he pressed the aforementioned button, the wall split vertically at the middle and slid open, revealing a room behind it. Gathering his Gryffindor courage (that was apparently worth a lot of points), he stepped through.

The room was designed the same way as the... entryway, as Harry decided to call it. Pure white with columns and marble everywhere. The room was decorated with statues. It was disturbing that they all looked mostly like Harry except... not quite right. Save for one, that is. All of the statues seemed to be chained down onto a pedastal except for that one. It was an exact replica of Harry and seemed to be walking in place on its pedastal. **CHOOSE YOUR AVATAR**, the message said as it appeared in mid-air in front of Harry.

"So these are all different versions of me?" Harry asked as he read some of the labels. '**Human**' was the normal looking Harry and the only one not chained down, '**Veela**' a much better looking version, '**Dragonborn**' a Harry that seemed to have small barely visible scales, '**Demonic**' and on and on it went. As it was the only one unlocked, Harry chose '**Human**'.

After he made his selection, the statues all sank into the stone floor, to be immediately replaced with a new set of statues. This time, four were without chains. **CHOOSE YOUR ORIGIN**, the game demanded. Looking around, Harry recognised the names on the unchained statues. **Dragon Slayer, Weasley** and **Dunderhead** as well as the**Standard** origins were moving.

"So because I did certain things while alive, I get new options for next time?" Harry mused. Maybe if he knew what he needed to do, he could make sure to do it this time. Then if he came back here when he died again, he would have even more choices.

**Granger Harry** was the first one he looked at. It looked like a healthier and happier version of himself, much like the moving **Weasley Harry** did. Though the Weasley one was noticeably pudgy. Not surprising given Mrs Weasley's cooking.

**LOCKED! Learn Hermione's parents' names!**

"... That's it? That's the unlock condition? That's easy! They're... err... Huh." Harry said as he scratched his head in confusion, realising he never actually learned them. "Well okay then I'll... I'll look out for that..." he promised as he sheepishly moved to the next locked statue.

**Pottermort** was unnerving. In both its appearance and what it represented. It was Harry but his features were more snakelike, ending up a twisted cross of Harry and Voldemort. Harry wasn't aware of it, but that basically described what the Pottermort origin was; the fusing of Voldemort's soul fragment in Harry's scar with Harry's own soul, leaving strong traces of the Dark Lord's personality imprinted on him.

**Locked! Become the next Dark Lord!**

"... That sense of humour still strong, I see." Harry said before immediately moving on.

**Ninja Harry**-

"OH FUCK YES!" Harry shouted, seeing the masked version of himself in a mask, standard ninja attire and in a standard ninja pose. "How do I get this one! HOW?"

**Locked! Attain freedom from the Dursleys unaided!**

"Hm." Harry said. "That could be tricky. But it'd be soooo worth it!"

In the end, Harry decided he would just stick with the standard for now and try to use his knowledge to his advantage rather than start something that would end up completely different (no matter how great '**Dragon Slayer**' sounded). As he went to select the **Standard** origin, more information appeared.

**Bonuses: Luck, Courage**

**Penalties: Expression**

"**Just Harry. But who wants to be 'just Harry'?"**

"Me. So let's go already." Harry said, before everything vanished, including him.

The next thing Harry knew, he was staring up at an unfamiliar ceiling and surrounded by bars. He wasn't quite sure where he was. It seemed familiar. Like he'd lived through this recently.

"Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off- "

That was all Harry needed to hear to know exactly where and when he was. He'd experienced this memory recently, after all. His attempt to shout any foul language that came to mind literally died in his throat since his mouth couldn't make the proper sounds yet.

To sum up: he was at Godric's Hollow on October 31st 1981. He was a baby, completely incapable of doing anything worthwhile. His dad had died seconds ago and no more than a minute from now his mum would do the same.

And he would spend the next ten years as the Dursley's slave.

Those other origins just gained a whole new level of appeal.

-(-)-

A/N: So you want to know how long I've been sitting on this? Two months. I read Majin Hentai X's Naruto fic of strikingly similar name and felt inspired. I asked permission and here we are.

Funny how I dreaded writing the graveyard bit when it was the research for the final score that was a real pain. Reading synopses of the first four books to get the important events down.

You might have noticed this fic has a kind of dark opening. Things like that will happen from time to time. First Law of Fanfiction and all. If Harry has access to what is essentially time travel then Voldemort _really_ needs to step up his game as a villain. And he will. But I'd like to have this be a humour fic with some awesome thrown in here and there. Whether it ends up that way... Hell if I know.

Reviews will be answered by PM for this fic save for when that isn't an option. Then it'll be in the A/N here at the end of chapters.

Thanks for reading!


	2. Good Job Their Favourite Colour is Red

Harry's second attempt at childhood went about as well as you could expect, which is to say, it went about as well as his first one did.

The night he was left at the Dursleys was particularly unpleasant. Since baby Harry had the fully functioning mind of teenage Harry, he was entirely capable of reading Dumbledore's... _heartwarming_ missive to his relatives.

_To Mrs Petunia Dursley_

_I regret to inform you of the passing of your sister Lily and her husband James Potter. It is a tragic loss for all those who knew them both and you have my deepest sympathies. However, their deaths have not been in vain as with their final actions they have ended a war in our world that may have spilled further over into yours if not for their sacrifice._

_With this note is their son Harry. I ask that as his only living relative that you take him in and look after him as though he were your own son. In doing so, I hope to be able to protect both your family and young Harry from any attempts at retaliation that may occur. For these protections to work, you and he must live in the same home._

_I thank you in advance for your compassion on both mine and Harry's behalf._

_Signed_

_Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore_

Fantastic. Worded so very well to make it sound as though if they don't take him in, they would _die_. Well, maybe he could do something about this?

Harry tried ripping up the note.

It suddenly had the tensile strength of solid steel.

Harry tried scrunching it up and throwing it away.

It bounced once on the doorstep then back into the basket with him.

Dumbledore baby-proofed the note. Of course he did. He left it next to a _baby_.

Growing frustrated, Harry tried eating the note.

That... was not a smart course of action. There is a reason babies don't eat solid foods. Aside from the lack of a full set of teeth for chewing, the oesophagus hasn't fully developed yet, meaning choking is very, very easy. So when baby Harry tried to swallow a piece of paper spelled against damage of any kind, the inevitable outcome was...

-(-)-

**GAME OVER**

**YOU LOSE**

"Of all the bloody ways to die..." Harry grumbled.

**Score:**

**Age one: 10 points**

**'Defeated' Lord Voldemort: 1 point**

**Subtotal: 11 points**

**Died a baby: - 2000 points**

**Died a virgin: - 1000 points**

**Subtotal: - 3000 points**

**Final total: - 2989 points**

**Karma: neutral: bystander**

"You don't really need to tell me how pathetic that was, thanks." Harry mumbled.

**Continue?**

**YES**

**NO**

"Third time's the charm." Harry sighed as he pressed **YES**.

-(-)-

Baby Harry went through the same events again, this time avoiding the deadly dangers of the piece of paper.

The next four years went about the same as the first time he'd done them. Live in the cupboard, speak when spoken to, do what you're told. Start school and do poorly to make sure not to show up Dudley. Start doing 'chores' including cooking, cleaning and weeding the garden on his fifth birthday.

Determined not to be the malnourished, feeble boy he was in his previous life, this was also the point young Harry started stealing food. The Dursleys would tell people he was a criminal anyway so what difference would it make? Of course, he was never daft enough to try stealing from the Dursleys themselves. He could guess how that would turn out easily enough. Instead he would nick bits and pieces from the nearest corner shop. Their security was rubbish and the one time he'd been caught doing it the girl on the counter started overcharging people to cover the loss.

Granted she was also covering for her own crafty pilfering an extra tenner from the till every now and again. But Harry wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

That pattern went on uninterrupted for another two years. That was when a seven year old Harry decided to try something new. On his way home from school one day Harry went instead to the nearest police station.

The next thing he remembered was being back in his cupboard and a message in the game's text style appearing on the wall. "**Secret unlocked! Get Obliviated! Memory wipe unlocked!**"

"What?" Harry shouted.

"Quiet in there, boy!" his uncle bellowed from outside the door.

**On your next new game, you will have the option of wiping your memory of previous sessions!**

"What was that about getting obliviated?" he asked, futily.

No answers were forthcoming. "Fine." he grumbled. So it looked like going to the authorities wasn't a workable plan.

As Harry opened the door to his cupboard his uncle Vernon started wobbling his jowls again. "What d'you think you're doing, boy! You forgotten you're being punished?"

"Got obliviated, so yeah." Harry answered without thinking, then realised his slip.

Vernon narrowed his eyes. That was the word that freakish old man used. "What was that, boy?"

No, wait! He could work with this! "Obliviated. Means they wiped my memory of... what day is it?"

"Never mind that, where'd you learn that freakishness?" Vernon bellowed.

"... My parents?" Harry tried.

"Your freak parents are dead, boy! Stop lying!"

"No, no, I, err... I have a..." What was it called again? "Oh, yes! Photographic memory! I remember everything that happened to me since I was born. My dad talked about his work sometimes and how the obliviators wipe people's memories!"

A bold-faced lie. But one he could back up.

Not that that mattered to Vernon any as he punted Harry back into his cupboard and yelling about how Harry wouldn't talk about that freakishness in this house.

So Harry's next step of talking about magic in a rational manner with his uncle and maybe convince him to, if not tolerate, then at least ignore any talk of magic went out the window. Vernon didn't care. As long as Harry was in the house, that was offensive enough.

Back to the drawing board.

-(-)-

A ten year old Harry was getting increasingly frustrated with his complete inability to change his circumstances. He had tried twice more to talk to the authorities about his treatment, not that he remembered those times. There was no message from the game to tell him of the obliviations since whatever had been unlocked the first time had already been unlocked. Attempts to just leave Privet Drive on his own had the same result. Occassionally he would wonder if the same thing happened in his first life but then he would remind himself that any thoughts like that were beaten out of him the first time round. His time at Hogwarts had allowed him to grow a new, stronger spine. The Dursleys wouldn't break him _this_ time, oh no!

Towards that end, Harry had had an excellent idea on how to have some fun at Dudley's expense. Upon being caught in one of Dudley's games of 'Harry Hunting', Harry just grinned at his cousin. Then, in a monotone voice, said "One day, Dud, I'll make sure I pay you back for all the times you've tormented me. In a few months, you'll find out how. It'll be the best birthday present I ever gave myself." Harry continued to grin throughout his threat and a fair amount of the beating that followed, determined to unnerve his cousin as much as possible. Dudley might forget but it wouldn't take much to remind him.

The payoff on his birthday would be so very satisfying.

Unfortunately, that wasn't enough to offset all of his anger. His growing frustration was doing terrible things to his bouts of accidental magic. What were harmless things like apparating out of danger and regrowing his hair last time, became things exploding or spontaneously setting on fire. It was horrifying, but at the same time entertaining and disturbingly satisfying.

At least it meant the Dursleys kept their distance more often. This also meant they left him at home for Dudley's trip to the zoo. Even that was a good thing to Harry. If things went the same way as last time, he would be sorely tempted to ask that snake to do the world a favour and suffocate his lummox of a cousin.

'Would I gain or lose points for that?' Harry wondered, before dismissing it as unimportant. Since the Dursleys were gone and Harry was unsupervised, he had the opportunity to do some valuable research into how computer games worked.

Two hours later and after an ill-fated attempt at playing Sonic the Hedgehog on Dudley's Mega Drive, Harry was even more confused about how computer games worked. But he did find some handy booklets that told him about how each game was played. So Harry stole them all. It's not like Dudley would be bothered. Reading made his head hurt.

Even with those, though, Harry still had no idea which ones had information that fit his situation. A couple of the games let you choose different characters at the start, all with different abilities but Harry had already figured out that much. Some had visible statistics to show what different characters were good at but none had any mention of the types his game mentioned. Well, one had a 'luck' stat but the books were vague on what that did. And he still didn't know whether that applied to _his_ game as well. He needed context and knew exactly when he would start to get any.

July 31st, 1991.

'Just a few more weeks.' Harry thought.

-(-)-

"What's that?" Harry asked, peering into the sink filled with foul smelling, soggy rags.

"Your new school uniform." his aunt answered, shortly.

The feeling of déjá vu had become near constant for Harry. Often he'd come across a situation and think 'oh yeah, that happened last time' and feel an inexorable urge to do something spontaneous to get rid of the feeling. It was a rarity that this would lead to good things for him but it helped with avoiding the monotony of doing it all over again exactly as before.

This time, however, the feeling reminded him of something very important that happened on this day. Best to play this one the same.

"Ah, right... right. Still under the delusion I'm going to Stonewall, then?"

Well... _mostly_ the same.

"'Course you're going to Stonewall!" Petunia shrieked with unecessary volume. "They wouldn't let a freak like you into a reputable school like Smeltings!"

"Yeah. Shame a freak like me has no other options, isn't it? If only there were a school where freaks could celebrate their freakish ways. Learning under a wise, old headmaster in a castle on the Scottish moors, hidden from the normal folk so we can practice our magic in peace-"

"DON'T YOU SAY THAT WORD, BOY!" Harry's uncle roared from his place at the table, having apparently been listening.

'I didn't say it, did I?' Harry wondered as he went over his impromptu faux lamentation before realising he did, indeed, say _that_ word. "Sorry, Uncle Vernon."

"Get the post and then go back to your cupboard. You can stay there for the rest of the day. And no meals!"

"Yes, Uncle Vernon." Harry answered, smirking inwardly. He'd already pushed things too far. May as well keep going.

Having gotten the post and opened and 'read' his letter, Harry strolled back into the kitchen and handed his uncle his own mail before looking at his aunt. "Aunt Petunia, can I borrow a pen?"

"Why?" she asked, scowling at him as though he had just spat at her.

"Why?" Harry echoed, grinning. "Well, so I can respond to this letter, of course! Seems it's from a special school where freaks can celebrate their freakish ways. Learning under a wise headmaster in a castle on the Scottish moors, hidden from the normal folk so we can practice our _magic_", here he pointed at the word 'Hogwarts' on the page for emphasis, "in peace."

-(-)-

From there, aside from the extra beating he got for his attitude (which Harry had to admit, may have been just a little bit justified), things progressed the same way. Harry moved to the smallest bedroom, swarms of letters chasing them out of Privet Drive, then out of their hotel to an island with a hut on it. Once again, Harry lay awake waiting for his birthday to arrive. At 11:59PM, he woke Dudley. "Hey Dudley." Harry said leadingly.

"Bugger off, freak." Dudley replied drowsily before rolling over to face away from Harry.

"Did I ever tell you when my birthday is?" Harry asked, grinning.

Dudley turned his head to glance at Harry again and saw that _grin_ again. He'd only seen it once before and it was just as creepy then. But he was Big D. He wasn't gonna let the freak get to him. "No one cares." he said, turning away again.

"Three... two... one..." Harry counted down to midnight. The very instant July 31st arrived, someone could be heard banging on the door. "Happy birthday to me... Happy birthday to me..." Harry sang quietly.

Vernon burst into the room with his rifle just like before and shouted a warning at the visitor, just like before.

"Happy birthday dear Harry..."

Another bang had the door to the house break off the hinges and fall to the floor.

"Happy birthday to-" Harry stopped as he saw a man he hadn't seen in ten years. A rush of memories and emotions came upon him all at once.

Hagrid telling him he was a wizard the first time.

Having tea with him in his hut on the Hogwarts grounds.

Helping him take care of Norbert the dragon.

Watching him get arrested for the basillisk incidents.

Attending his Care of Magical Creatures classes.

Watching him walk away after leaving baby Harry on the Dursley's doorstep.

Somehow, all those happy memories were drowned out by that freshest, bitter experience of watching a man who would become a friend abandon him to ten years of slave labour, emotional and occassionally physical abuse.

So Harry's greeting of "Hello Hagrid." came out frostier than the new eleven year old had imagined it would.

"Alrigh' Harry?" Hagrid answered without thinking before doing a double take. "Harry! Yeh remembered me! 'Ow's that then? Yeh was only a little baby when I las' saw yeh!"

"I have a good memory. Well, that and it's hard to forget being carried by a giant man on a flying motorbike." Harry joked, trying quite hard not to be bitter. It wasn't fair to the man, especially with how guilty he felt last... He apologised last time, didn't he? And Harry forgave him. It really wasn't fair to be angry about it at all then.

Not with Hagrid at least.

"Ha! S'pose yeh're right about tha'. Why di'n yeh answer yeh're Hogwarts letter though?" Hagrid asked.

"Two reasons. First, it wanted response by owl. I don't have one. Posting it the muggle way addressed to 'Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry' would probably have it sent in the same direction as the letters to Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny. And assuming I _tried_ to respond in either of those ways, _he_ would've stopped me." Harry finished, pointing his thumb in the direction of his uncle Vernon, who was still aiming a rifle at the scraggly-haired giant. It was at this point Vernon interjected with his threat and Hagrid responded by once again twisting the barrel of the gun into a pretzel.

That done, Hagrid sat on the couch, Dudley scampering away in fear, and handed Harry the box with the birthday cake in it and the last Hogwarts letter. Taking out a quill and a live owl he penned a note to Dumbledore and sent the owl off with it, just as he had before.

"Righ', where was I? Oh ah, I'm takin' yeh to Diagon Alley tomorrow fer yer school things. Get yeh a wand an' that-" Hagrid continued.

"He's not going." Vernon interrupted, his courage magically returning (figuratively speaking). "We swore when we took him in we'd stamp out that freakishness!"

"Yeah. How well did that go for you, Uncle Vernon? Was it on the sixth or seventh kick that you realised it was me making things explode? And how many more was it before you realised kicking me _harder_ wasn't going to make it stop?"

"It was for your own good! Better that than you end up like that dratted sister of mine!" Petunia started ranting. "Oh, she got a letter just like that and disappeared off to that... that _school_ and came home with pockets full of frog spawn, turning teacups into rats. I was the only one who saw her for what she was: a freak! But for my mother and father, oh no, it was Lily this and Lily that, they were proud of having a witch in the family!"

"And then you get saddled with me, out of nowhere, with a passive-aggressive death threat to force you to take me in." Harry interrupted. "Just like that you have to clean up your sister's mess and take care of her freak spawn. Was it satisfying for you? Hearing the snap of my bones as your husband 'stamped the freakishness out of me'? Were you disappointed when I didn't beg for the scraps from the dinner _I_ made when you wouldn't let me have any of it? For the record, I would never beg for anything from a pathetic waste of flesh like you."

"Don't you talk to my wife like that fre-" Vernon began before he was similarly cut off.

"And then there's _you_." Harry said icily. "I have to ask, Uncle Vernon, in all of your talk of being 'normal', at what point did beating children fit in that category? In what world is that considered acceptable behaviour for a respectable human being? I mean your wife's excuse was lousy but at least she has one. So I have to ask. As you knocked me to the ground and proceeded to kick my helpless body when I was only seven years old, what thought process told you this was considered _acceptable_?" Harry scoffed as he finished. "And you have the nerve to call me 'freak'."

Hagrid, for his part, was stunned at Harry's outburst and description of what his life was like at the Dursley's home. He had begun to sob and blow his nose into a large tea towel upon realisation that it was partially his fault for what Harry went through. It took Harry being knocked back over the couch by Vernon's fist to snap him out of his thoughts. He followed Harry's path with his eyes as Harry rolled along the wooden floor until he lost momentum and lay unmoving. When Vernon moved to continue Harry's 'punishment' Hagrid leapt to his feet with a loud thud and grabbed Vernon by the neck, his hand circling it easily, and lifted the rotund man off the ground. Tears still there, Hagrid's face showed rage unlike any Harry had seen, even from Vernon.

"I was there for the las' war, Dursley. I seen things done to the nicest folk ye're e'er likely to meet tha'd make yeh piss yerself in fear. An' I ain' _ever_ wan'ed ta kill a man as I do righ' 'ere an' now. I hear you touched one hair on 'Arry's head after today, you'll wish I'd jus' ripped yer 'ead off and bin done with it! Am I _CLEAR_?" Hagrid roared into Vernon's rapidly reddening face before unceremoniously dropping the man and letting him fall bonelessly to the floor.

When Hagrid checked on Harry and found he was unconscious but surprisingly not badly injured, Hagrid swore to himself that he would do whatever he could to do better by Harry. He just hoped one day the boy could find it in his heart to forgive the gentle half-giant for his mistake.

Not knowing Harry already had.

-(-)-

A/N: Obligatory Dursley chapter. Might seem a bit odd pacing-wise since I wrote it in fits and starts. Let me know in reviews if it's a problem and I'll try and tune it up a bit.

Speaking of reviews. I got a few that called me out on unfair bashing of a certain red-haired twa- err, _character_ and a particular meddling bast- umm, _headmaster_. Yeah, that's the ticket. I'll admit the accusations had a little bit of merit to them. I made it read like Dumbledore didn't give two shits about Harry when this is (arguably) untrue. The other one makes more sense given the context of the supposed 'bashing'. We'll start with Ron since his is easier.

Ron Weasley is a twat. It sounds harsh to just say it like that but it is an accurate assessment of his character until minimum the start of book 5 and arguably right up until the end of book 7. His redeeming character trait is that he has your back, provided he and his ego find it convenient to do so. There are so many rants denigrating Ron Weasley that making another one here is pointless. So I'll cut it short and say the "'Earned' friend Ron" thing was not bashing. Ron was a new kid at a new school and wanted to make a friend. All kids do in a scary new situation. So Ron was probably going to latch on to Harry like a lamprey regardless of anything Harry did. So 'earned' because Harry didn't need to do anything. When I actually _start_ taking pot-shots at Ron, I doubt I'll be as subtle as this was.

Dumbledore. Ohhhh, Dumbledore. I figure there's three ways you can portray him and have it seem somewhat logical. Senile, manipulative or _ruthlessly_ manipulative. It's a product of the first few books being children's books. His actions there don't make sense unless there was some level of either insanity, stupidity or manipulation involved. Unfortunately, the fics I've read that portray Dumbledore as benevolent also end up making him look as thick as two short planks.

Or Ron.

See? That wasn't subtle at all, was it?

Anyway, I digress. If you see Dumbledore being manipulative and at times, yeah, a bit of a bastard, then yes. This story will look like Dumbledore bashing to you. Nothing I can do about that. But him as a manipulator adds more obstacles for Harry and I once again find myself directing you to the First Law of Fanfiction.

Incidentally, I did have another thought. That making Ron and Dumbledore cardboard cutout villains would actually make a fair amount of sense given this is at least in part a computer game parody. I thought better of it though. It'd just be an insult to games that have good writing and more complex characters (even ones that are similar to Ron and Dumbledore in some respects).

Right. That out of the way, I didn't respond to all of the reviews I received. Don't take it personal if I didn't answer yours. I read it, just didn't have much of a response. Know every review is much appreciated (20 of the bloody things! That matches my record for reviews of a single chapter!).

I think that covers just about everything.

As always, thanks for reading.


	3. Legacy

If there was one thing Harry had not been looking forward to upon his return to Magical Britain, it would have to have been the moment people recognised him. That first visit to the Leaky Cauldron where people mobbed him as soon as his name was said aloud still haunted his dreams sometimes. Most of those dreams swapped 'star-struck' wizards and witches with those pseudo-zombies they learned about in DADA.

So Harry worked to avoid a repeat performance of that particular traumatic memory. Making it very clear to Hagrid that he wanted to avoid being mobbed so they should avoid saying his name.

Small details tend to get lost even in your most important memories after over a dozen years have passed. So Harry had forgotten -

"Good Lord! Is this... Can this be-?"

Hagrid's frantic hand waving did nothing to dissuade the old bartender's announcement.

"Bless my soul, Harry Potter! What an honour!"

No one needed to hear his name to recognise him. Downside of being a near carbon copy of his Dad 'save for the eyes; he has Lily's eyes'. Harry groaned inwardly at that thought. Knowing he would hear that so very many times in the near future.

And so the parade of introductions and thanks went on just as he remembered. Thankfully Hagrid was fully aware of how disconcerted Harry was with all the attention and managed to pull Harry away after Quirrell had introduced himself. "Alrigh' there, 'Arry?" he asked the pale boy.

"Yeah, I'll be fine. Suppose I'll have to get used to it." Again.

"Should be easier from 'ere on." Hagrid consoled as he opened the entrance to Diagon Alley. "Folks mos'ly mind their own business in Diagon Alley. Jus' don' go wand'rin off, eh?"

Their first stop was Gringotts.

Everything went largely as it had the first time around; the Teller impatiently asking his name, him giving it, the goblin staring at him searchingly and then asking for his key, and then Hagrid handing it over, followed by the exhilarating cart ride down to his Trust Vault.

This time though, Harry knew what the different coins meant and instead asked a different question. "Excuse me, do I have any other Vaults to my name?" He asked the cart driver as Hagrid leaned against the wall and took deep calming breaths, his face slightly green.

The Goblin sent him a look that was part annoyed and part interested. Harry assumed most 11 year olds didn't ask about what their families owned. "I'm not in charge of the Potter Vaults, human. We could stop by Manager Clawhammer's office and see if he's free, otherwise you'll need to make an appointment, which you can do at any of the Teller's desks on the surface."

Harry nodded his acceptance and the Goblin's eyes unfocused for a few seconds. Harry could once again only make assumptions, but he guessed the Goblin was plotting out which tunnels they would need to take. Hagrid, looking significantly less green, walked over looking troubled. "'Arry, we need ter ge' goin'." He said.

" . Why don't you grab something to eat or drink while I get this taken care of? I'll be able to find you when I'm done as long as you stay in Diagon Alley." Harry winced. On a scale of how subtle that was, what he'd said was at level 'smack you in the face with a sign'; he really need to work on that.

Hagrid looked over at the cart, not looking at all interested in getting back in it and going with Harry. This may have played a role when he sighed and said, "Alrigh' 'Arry, I'll be in the Leaky Cauldron."

Harry readily agreed and, after making sure he had enough Galleons stuffed into a pouch that had been hanging from the back of the Vault door, climbed back into the cart with Hagrid. After a quick trip to vault 713 for a certain stone, they returned to the surface. With a quick goodbye to the Half Giant, Harry and the cart driver were off. The ride wasn't actually that long, and it wasn't even that far down either; not even a fraction of how deep they went when they'd gone to his Trust Vault. After dropping a few floors down they spend several minutes zooming straight forwards before they ended up in a narrow tunnel with doors on either side, all sporting two names and a symbol below them.

Harry was surprised when the cart jerked to a sudden stop and he found himself in front of a door. As the Cart Driver got out and knocked on the door he was able to read it before it swung open.

**Manager Clawhammer**

**Potter**

**Gryffindor**

**Peverell**

"What is it! Using the cart network to get here, don't you know I'm on bre-" The irritated Goblin stopped mid-sentence upon seeing Harry and the scowl left his face to be replaced with the trademark goblin grin. The one that terrifies small children. "Ah, Mr Potter, I presume. I admit I had been expecting to see you one of these days but to show up exactly upon the eve of your eleventh year! An excellent display of punctuality! My name is Clawhammer and I am your house's account manager. Please come in and take a seat."

Harry entered the office and took his seat in front of the ornate wooden desk. The walls of the office were decorated with the mounted remains of various beasts. Some Harry recognised such as the Acromantula and one that looked very much like the head of a Werewolf during its time of the month. Others were completely unknown to him like the large, horned, mask-like thing hanging above the desk in pride of place.

"Unnerved by the décor, I see." Clawhammer spoke as he moved to sit behind his desk glancing at the mask as he did. "We may be bankers but all Goblins are trained as warriors first. To display trophies of our greatest kills is our way. Do they disturb you?"

"I don't even know what most of them are. That you're proud of killing a man with an illness does bother me a bit though, yes." Harry answered, looking significantly at the werewolf.

Clawhammer followed his gaze. "Ahh, the Werewolf. A sympathiser, then? I admit some handle the curse well and even manage to subdue the beast within to an extent. Such men are worthy of great praise. But the call of the wolf is strong. Some let the wolf control them and become beasts themselves. That," He gestured at the severed wolf head, "is one such beast. And no longer able to pass his tainted existence on to others. Some men become monsters once a month, Mr Potter, but some men were already monsters upon birth."

"So!" Clawhammer said, facing Harry once again. "I'm sure you didn't come here hoping to philosophise on the nature of man. Let us discuss your status." He started pulling various files from various drawers in his desk and looking over them.

"Hadrian James Potter, Halfblood, born July 31st 1980 to Lily Potter née Evans, Muggleborn, and Junius Charlus Potter, Pureblood."

"Err, no." Harry interrupted. "My name's _Harry_. And my dad's was James."

"Yes, your _public_ name is Harry." The Goblin agreed. "However, your _legal_ name is Hadrian. It's a custom of very old, prominent families to have two names. Public one for people close to them – Harry – and a legal one for everyone else – Hadrian. The practice has mostly fallen out of favour with only a few families following it to the letter. Most just use their public names all of the time and only use their legal name for official documents... Mr Potter?"

He didn't know his own name. He _didn't know_ his own _name_! The thought kept running through Harry's head over and over again as he sat there in abject disbelief. How could no one have told him? Dumbledore had to have known. Sirius too since being a Godfather is a legal agreement as well as a familial one.

"Mr Potter? I hate to rush your mental breakdown but I do have an appointment later today."

Harry put his downward spiral of a thought process into a box marked 'brood later' and shoved it to the side. "Right, sorry. Please go on."

"Thank you. So as of today your Trust Vault has activated, allowing you access for whatever you may require. It contains a total of forty-two-thousand galleons. You are permitted to withdraw a total of six-thousand galleons per year. I assume you will be attending Hogwarts?"

"Yes." Harry confirmed.

"Then eight-hundred galleons will be withdrawn from the vault per year to pay for tuition, leaving you five-thousand-two-hundred galleons per year. There are also your Family Vaults-"

Harry's eyes widened. "Vault_s_? Plural?"

"Perhaps you didn't see the sign on the door. Potter. Gryffindor. Peverell. Those three accounts belong to you now."

"Since when?"

"Well if you'll pardon the bluntness, since your parents died. The Potters were descended from the youngest Peverell who survived both his elders. I believe there was a tale written about it. You also belong to a junior line of Gryffindor. The senior line, being an early target of the Death Eaters during the blood war, were wiped out, meaning their estate defaults to you. Neither estate is especially lucrative but there may be some rare artifacts you'll find useful. When you're older, of course." Clawhammer added.

"Now, there is something I'm curious about. Who exactly is your guardian?" the account manager asked.

Simple logic told Harry Clawhammer wasn't asking for who was looking after him. He wanted to know who Harry's legal guardian was in the magical world. "Probably Dumbledore."

Clawhammer shook his head. "If you were Muggleborn, perhaps. But as the heir of an ancient and noble house Dumbledore cannot be your guardian. I can tell you definitively that your Wizengamot would not accept it. Let's see, your Godmother was Alice Longbottom so certainly not her... " The goblin's jaw suddenly hung open in shock. "Sirius Black? Your Godfather was Sirius Black? Really?"

Harry wouldn't possibly know that at this point so couldn't confirm it. "I dunno. Who's he?" He asked, feigning curiosity.

"He was the heir to the Black estate. Then he killed some people and ended up in Azkaban; the wizard prison. Nasty place. Well he's certainly not your guardian, then. And since the Potter Will was sealed I believe that means you don't have one." A goblin grin spread across the account manager's face. "Which provides you – and by you I mean us – with an opportunity!" he announced.

"What kind of opportunity?" Harry asked, understandably wary after seeing that vicious smile.

"Your parents are dead. Their wills sealed. Your Godmother is catatonic. Your Godfather is in prison. Your Grandparents are dead. Your mother had a sister but she is a Muggle and thus a non-person in the eyes of magical law. There is literally no one with legal permission to look after you. Which means unless someone can be brought forward that has permission to, you may emancipate yourself and declare yourself an adult."

"Why would I want to do that?" Harry asked, having already thought of one very good reason.

"Well for a start I assume from the state you're currently in you live with people who treat you like Dragon dung and Mr. Dumbledore is the reason for it. Well, as it stands, no one would fault the man for it but were you declared an adult it would be considered abducting the Lord of an Ancient and Noble House. A serious charge. Which means you could live wherever you want. You would have full-"

"_I'll do it!_" Harry shouted excitedly, acting every part the excited eleven year old he happened to be at the time. Including bouncing in his seat with a silly grin on his face.

"-access to the Potter House Vault. Prudence on my part suggests not letting you access vaults containing potentially dangerous magical artifacts before you even have your own wand, but I may or may not ignore that particular set of guidelines. Finally, as a legal adult, you will be able to perform magic whenever and wherever you please, provided of course you maintain the Statute of Secrecy." Clawhammer finished as though Harry never said anything.

"You've already sold me. How do we do this, do I sign something?" Harry asked rapidly.

The goblin was grinning again. He pressed a few buttons on what looked very much like a 10-key and a form appeared. "There's not much they can do to contest this." He said as he filled in the required fields on the form. "They could try something with Black, but as a convicted murderer it would never go through. Longbottom doesn't even know her own name anymore-Sorry, that was rude of me." He apologised, remembering what they discussed earlier. He turned the form to face Harry and handed him a quill. "Sign here, here and here. Sign as _Hadrian_ remember."

Harry nodded and signed as directed, feeling an odd stinging sensation in his off hand as he did.

"Congratulations, Mr Potter. Now, we have ten minutes before my appointment so let's discuss any additional services you would like."

-(-)-

Harry walked out of the bank a happy young man after finishing up with Clawhammer. The Trust Vault he had visited earlier had been consolidated into the main Potter vault to which he had gained full access. Further, he had purchased a pouch that was directly linked to said vault, a small fee being issued when used. Much more convenient than hauling a bag of coins around.

**Legal status: Adult**

**Acquired: 674,352G**

'That's still happening then.' Harry rolled his eyes. 'What next...' he thought to himself before deciding on getting his robes from Madame Malkin's. Having taken a great deal longer in Gringotts than last time he missed Draco and was not sad over that fact. So robe shopping was uneventful.

**Acquired: Standard Hogwarts Robes (7)**

'Right, right.' Harry rolled his eyes again, wondering if the text was going to do that for everything he bought. Like parchment and quills, which he went to get next.

Turned out no, it wasn't. Maybe it only worked for significant enough items? Maybe they weren't important enough to get their own special announcement floaty celebration text?

It was at this point he remembered Hagrid had the list of things he would need for the year so went back to the Cauldron to fetch the gentle Giant. Walking into the pub he tried to avoid being noticed as he tapped Hagrid on the arm and motioned for them to go back into the Alley.

Harry went out first while Hagrid finished his drink and followed. "Alrigh' 'Arry? Wha's next, then?"

"I dunno. You have the list." Harry pointed out patiently.

"Oh, righ' yeh. Sorry. Le'see... Books? Done yer book shoppin' yet?" the half-giant asked.

"Not yet. Where's the book shop?" Harry asked, and they were off.

Shopping for books would have been exactly as uneventful as shopping for robes were it not for something strange occurring towards the back of the shop. There, plain as day, was a pedestal of a style very familiar to Harry. The same Greco-Roman design as the game's location. And on it was a book. Titled 'Harry Potter: Official Manual'.

Now Harry could take a hint. So as soon as he read the book's title he snatched it off of the pedestal, which then sank into the ground and disappeared. The floor where it stood now appeared to be identical to the rest of the shop, undisturbed by what stood there only seconds before. Collecting the rest of his course books, he paid and left the shop, the manual unnoticed by both the cashier and Hagrid.

"Got yer wand yet?" Hagrid asked.

Harry had to admit he felt a bit daft for forgetting to get his wand.

"Well there's Ollivander's. Think I'll go find yeh a birthday present." Hagrid grinned as he saw Harry's eyes light up. Not knowing Harry knew exactly what the Half-Giant was going to buy him and couldn't wait to see his snowy friend again.

Ollivander went through the same routine as he had the first time. 'Wand chooses the wizard', 'your mum's was good for charms', 'Voldemort was a bit of a bastard' and so on and Harry started trying wands. Eventually they got to the right one. "Eleven inches, holly and phoenix feather. Nice and supple."

Harry waved his old wand exactly as he had the first time. And just as the first time, red and gold sparks shot out of it. And Harry felt the familiar warm sensation spread through him.

"Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh very good. Well well well, how very curious..." Ollivander trailed off, just as he had the first time.

Harry waited longer than he had before for the old Wandmaker to continue his thought. Turned out he really was asking for Harry to ask. Harry sighed. "What's curious?"

"I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the Phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand gave another feather. Just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when it's brother... Why, it's brother gave you that scar."

He had forgotten. It was so significantly insignificant at the time and in the intervening years was just completely unimportant. But... it meant so much _more_ now. His wand was related to Voldemort's wand. The wand that murdered hundreds. The wand the stole his parents from him. The wand that three years in the future would take Harry's own life.

And for just one instant. For just one irrational, spiteful instant at the most crucial moment...

Harry Potter hated his wand.

And, with a mournful cry of phoenix song, it shattered.

-(-)-

A/N: Eeeeeee! Another chapter! And my review-per-chapter record has been broken! And now favourites and follows are listed in the story information and I now know this chapter is comparable with a story that has been running for two years and is over 100,000 words! It has dawned on me that I am writing for a much larger audience!

Exclamation points!

So we'll be finishing Diagon Alley next time and August, when Harry will be taking a look at the game manual. Should be fun. You might be wondering about the emancipation stuff and how cliché it was. I'll just say Clawhammer did a marvellous job of accentuating the positive.

In behind-the-scenes news, Slicerness has signed up to be my official beta/creative consultant for this story and was kind enough to contribute a few hundred words to this chapter when I hit a bit of a stumbling block. Mad props to Slicer!

No more review responses. Leaves me with a kind of hollow feeling. Le sigh.

Thanks for reading! And happy second anniversary of authoriness to me!


	4. Still Figuring Out

"What...?" Harry uttered, eyes wide, jaw hanging open as he stared at the fragments of what had been and was supposed to be his wand. "What... What..."

Ollivander, though he hid it well, was no less shocked. Not by what happened, rather by what caused it to happen. 'I just caused the Boy Who Lived to reject his wand!' he thought to himself in a panic, none of it showing on his face. Potential outcomes of this event ran through his head. A product failing so catastrophically for such a high-profile customer would ruin his business! Hell, that was understating things, there'd be a public lynching! Mobs chasing him through the streets!

The old wandmaker returned his attention to Harry who was still repeating his half-formed question. "What... What..."

"N-n-" Ollivander began before stopping to compose himself properly. 'Need to be confident. Need to keep calm and pretend this wasn't the single greatest bugger-up since Great Grandfather destroyed our entire stock of gryphon feather wands.' "Not to worry, Mr Potter. An understandable reaction given the circumstances." he told the boy, nodding solemnly.

"What..." Harry repeated one last time.

"A rejection." he explained. "It happens from time to time. It's quite rare. Finding a matching wand usually gives a feeling of euphoria. People describe it as 'like finding a part of yourself you didn't know was missing'. No negative emotions there. But sometimes a witch or wizard has a certain dislike for their wand for whatever reason. A common one being the core is from an... unpleasant creature. Basillisk or acromantula, for example. If there is enough negativity towards the wand, a rejection occurs, causing the wand to fall apart. It only happens when first matching a wand to a wizard."

"So... So I killed my wand." Harry concluded, tears being held back by sheer force of will.

"What?! What the devil makes you think-! Oh." Ollivander said in sudden realisation, feeling a need to curse himself for his constant desire for showmanship. "Mr Potter, Harry, you have to promise not to tell anyone this. The 'wand chooses the wizard' stuff isn't true. It's just... sentimentality. It isn't real. Your magic matches to phoenix feather and holly and eleven inches is the ideal distance through which to channel your specific magic. That's all.", he consoled.

"So I didn't kill it?" Harry asked with some relief.

"No, Harry. It was never alive." Ollivander stated softly with a reassuring smile.

Harry accidentally let a couple of tears fall in his total relief that he hadn't 'killed' one of his most faithful companions. There was still sadness. Even for that split-second of hatred, there were still dozens of times when that wand saved his skinny arse. Of course, there was the one time it didn't but that certainly wasn't _its_ fault-

He needed to stop being so sentimental about an apparently inanimate object. Still... "Can we do anything with this?" Harry asked Ollivander, indicating the gold-flecked fragments of wood.

"Such as?" Ollivander asked. "It certainly won't work as a wand anymore, if that's what you're asking."

"No, no." Harry confirmed. "Something... I don't know. Like a keepsake." Harry suggested, cheeks reddening slightly out of embarrassment. "Call me sentimental."

"Hmmm." Ollivander hummed as he reached for his own wand. 'Nine and three-quarter inches, unicorn hair.' he thought before cursing that talent of his at analysing any wand he touched. It got bloody irritating sometimes. "Don't move." he told Harry before casting.

A few creative transfigurations later, the fragments of wood and bits of phoenix feather had reassembled themselves. Even the ones that had scattered around the shop. They now formed a small pendant. A disc-shaped, wooden shell with a loop at the top for threading a necklace. The core of the pendant contained the phoenix feather remnants, made visible through a small glass hole on the front of the shell, emanating a faint golden glow.

Ollivander nodded, satisfied with his work. "You'll need to find something to hang it on. It won't do anything for you magically to wear it but as a keepsake-"

"It's brilliant! Thank you so much, Mr Ollivander!" Harry interrupted, beaming a smile at the wandmaker.

"Consider it an apology. I was partially to blame for what happened, after all." Ollivander admitted.

"So... I don't suppose you have another wand made from holly and phoenix feather at eleven inches?" Harry asked hopefully.

"Ah... no." Ollivander answered, the worried feeling returning at realising he'd caused the Boy Who Lived to be without a properly matched wand. A nice, valueless pendant wasn't much consolation for that. He sighed to himself, resigned to what he would have to do. "Best follow me, Harry. And remember when I asked you not to tell anyone about the matching wands thing? Think ten times that for what we're about to do." he said as he headed into the wand workshop.

Harry looked around the workshop. Various cores and woods lined the shelves. From phoenix feather to basillisk eye lens. From birch to ancient oak. Wood from ancient trees appeared to require their own sections for whatever reason. "So what're we going to do?" Harry asked tentatively.

"We are going to make you a custom wand. I stress again, do not tell _anyone_ about this. It is technically illegal to create custom wands for minors. A bit harder to track, you see. It doesn't help that they have to be blood-bound to the wielder." Ollivander explained.

"Oh, well the legality shouldn't be a problem. I emancipated myself about an hour or two ago. In the eyes of the law, I'm an adult." Harry responded, with a tiny bit of smugness. Something he realised afterwards and chided himself inwardly for sounding like Malfoy.

"Really? Well, let's get this started then." Ollivander suggested. "On these shelves are all the cores and wood blanks I have available. Each has different properties pertaining to different branches of magic. Some will work better for transfiguration, others charms, others battle magic and so on. Don't be too concerned. They'll still do everything the other wands can, they'll just be a slight bit better in that type of magic."

Harry nodded and started to move towards the shelves when the game once again reared its head. Text appeared over each section of wand components, detailing what benefits or in some cases, detriments the components had.

**PHOENIX FEATHER**

**Healing: +5**

**Battle Magic: +5**

**HOLLY**

**Black Magic: +5**

Harry was surprised at the benefits given from his original wand. Taken at face value, it meant he could have gone either way, light or dark, but would have to fight either way. 'No matter what, I have to fight.' Harry rolled his eyes. 'Typical.' He decided to start with choosing a wood blank. "Is there a difference between the regular and ancient wood blanks?" Harry asked the wandmaker.

"Price." Ollivander said immediately. "An ancient wood is more expensive than a young one by a factor of twenty. So a 12G alder would mean a 240G ancient alder. Ancient woods are more effective at channelling magic, however."

'Price isn't much of an issue for me. And this _is _going to be my most important possession for the foreseeable future.' Harry reasoned and ignored the ordinary woods in favour of the ancient ones.

**ANCIENT HOLLY**

**Magic: +2**

**Black Magic: +10**

'No.'

**ANCIENT ALDER**

**Magic: +2**

**Healing: +10**

'Maybe.'

**ANCIENT BIRCH**

**Magic: +2**

**Transfiguration: +10**

'Nah.'

**ANCIENT WILLOW**

**Magic: +2**

**Divination: +10**

'How is that its own-? Whatever. No.'

**ANCIENT IVY**

**Magic: +2**

**Charms: +10**

'Hmm. Maybe.'

**ANCIENT OAK**

**Magic: +2**

**Runecrafting: +10**

'Don't know how to do that. Maybe next time.'

**ANCIENT ELDER**

**Magic: +2**

**Ritual Magic: +10**

'Nah.'

**ANCIENT ROWAN**

**Magic: +2**

**Battle Magic: +10**

'We have a winner.' "Ancient rowan for the wood, please."

"Are you sure? As I said, ancient woods are quite expensi-"

"I can afford it." Harry assured. "And this will be the most important thing I own, right? Best not to skimp on it."

"True, I suppose. This will be a remarkably good wand for combat." Ollivander conceded. "And the core?"

The phoenix feather seemed the obvious choice. But Harry felt it might be a bad idea to overspecialise. So settled on something else. "Basillisk eye lens, I think."

**BASILLISK EYE LENS**

**Transfiguration: +10**

"Another interesting choice. Not much call for basillisk eye outside of those either working towards or having achieved transfiguration masteries. Looking to follow in your father's footsteps, perhaps?" Ollivander asked as he fetched the ingredient.

"I figure it's better not to overspecialise is all." Harry said, repeating his reasoning out loud.

"Very well. I just need a bit of blood for the binding and the 437 galleons for the components and crafting."

-(-)-

"Took yeh a while 'Arry!" Hagrid said as Harry came out of the wand shop with his new rowan and basillisk lens wand (11 inches). "All sorted?"

"Yeah." Harry answered, swishing his wand through the air causing white sparks to shoot out of the end. "Bloody brilliant!"

"Aye. Nothin' like getting' yer firs' wand, eh?" Hagrid asked rhetorically. "Well, I got yeh a birthday present an' all." Hagrid announced, lifting the birdcage containing a familiar snowy owl and handing it to Harry. "What yeh think? Beauty, isn' she?"

Harry took hold of the cage and couldn't stop smiling at being reunited with his first friend. "She's gorgeous."

"Happy birthday, 'Arry. So, we got yeh a wand, books, robes, all the little fiddly stuff yeh need like quills, potion supplies... jus' need somethin' ter put it all in and we're done!"

After purchasing a decent-sized trunk enchanted with a couple of expansion charms, they left the alley and headed back to the train station and got Harry back 'home' to Privet Drive.

"Remember, 'Arry, that whale tries anythin' yeh jus' get out the house an' raise yer wand. Tha' summons the Knight Bus. Can get yeh away from there quick as yeh blink." Hagrid advised as they walked down the street, nosey neighbours peering out of windows as they always did.

"Thanks, Hagrid. I think I'll be fine. My accidental magic tended to blow things up so they'll be a bit wary to try anything now that I can aim it properly." Harry said with a sinister grin.

"No usin' magic on muggles except in self-defense, 'Arry. Yeh'll get in trouble otherwise." Hagrid warned.

"I know that. They don't." Harry said, still grinning.

-(-)-

'Right.' Harry said to himself as he looked through his trunk.

Harry's prediction that the Dursleys would more or less leave him alone proved true. As before, he was given the small bedroom with the broken furniture.

'I know it's in here somewhere.' He continued to rummage until he found what he was looking for. The one thing he knew hadn't been there during his first trip to Diagon Alley. The Manual. (Yes, even in his mind he gave it capital letters.) The book that would give him answers about the messed up situation he found himself in. It was deceptively thin. Closed, it appeared to only be about fifty pages but opening it, the pages would just keep turning through hundreds. Harry wisely decided to start at the very beginning rather than try to find anything specific in the tiny giant book.

**Message from the Creator**

**Hello and congratulations on being chosen to beta-test MercuNorn's new flagship product: Champion Game! The system with which a chosen Champion can achieve their Great Destiny with minimum fuss and maximum entertainment! MercuNorn Solutions would like to thank you for agreeing to be our guinea-pig.**

"I didn't agree to that!"

**Disclaimer: You agreed by choosing 'New Game'. Sucker.**

'Did... Did the book just prank me?' Harry wondered, before dismissing the thought and moving on. He skimmed the parts about the main menu having figured most of that out already, though he made a mental note to check out the 'Extras' menu at some point. Next was Game Basics.

**Basic Commands**

**Commands are made by saying them aloud or thinking them with intent for them to activate their function. Here is a list of each with their function.**

**Inventory: List of current items and equipment on your person.**

**Character: View current stats, skills and perks.**

**Manual: Summon the manual to your hand. (note: the Manual is now bound to you in all incarnations and can be summoned at any time)**

**Manual Search "search term": Searches the manual for information relevant to the search term. For example, 'Manual Search Glitch' would bring you to this page.**

**Help: Allows you to directly ask a question of your Game Master. (note: feature not yet implemented)**

**Glitch: Command for when something goes drastically wrong with the game world or characters. Sends a message to the developer to fix it immediately. (note: penalties applied for needlessly summoning the developer)**

**Quit: Leave your current game and return to the main menu. (note: loses all unsaved progress)**

So there were a few options to use if things went wrong. That was nice.

**Character Breakdown**

**There are a great number of components that make up each character. Let's start with the basic stats. These come in two varieties. Combat and social. Combat stats include Strength, Magic, Endurance, Agility and Luck. They determine exactly what you would expect. The human scale for these stats are 0 to 99. Different races have different maximum values. For example, demons have physical ranges (STR, END and AGI) of 0 to 300 and a MAG range of 0 to 40. These stats increase automatically every time you gain a level.**

**Social stats are Courage, Expression (ability to express thoughts, feelings and to convince), Wisdom (dealing with what could be), Intelligence (dealing with what is) and Dilligence. These five stats have five levels each. Improving them makes dealing with other people much easier. They do not improve automatically and you must find the methods for improving them yourself.**

**Next are skills. Skills determine your abilities in specific areas. They range from the different branches of magic (charms, transfiguration, potions, etc) to more mundane areas such as hand-to-hand combat, survival or mechanics. Some of these will receive bonuses when your basic stats reach certain levels. There are also events and collectibles that allow you to improve a specific skill. And you will have the opportunity to improve the skills of your choice a set amount upon gaining a level.**

**Finally, we have perks. Every time you gain a level, you will be asked to choose a perk from a list of those available with your current skills and stats. These offer a wide variety of effects and are PERMANENT for your current game. It is recommended that you choose wisely.**

**All of your current stats can be viewed with the Character command. (note: not available in the prologue)**

**Levelling Up**

'This is going to be a long month.' Harry decided.

-(-)-

A/N: I wasn't supposed to update this next. Oh well. No skin off my nose. So we have the stat system for the game. A bastardised mix of Persona and Fallout. I am so, so sorry.

Okay. So people really haven't seen the wand exploding before, apparently. I actually had an original idea in a fandom that has nearly 600,000 fics to its name. I'd say that was an accomplishment, wouldn't you?

I feel I should address where Harry is mentally when it comes to age here rather than in a review response. Best to clear this up for the audience at large. Harry has been alive for 25 years. That does _not_ mean that he is mentally 25. Mentally 25 means you have lived through 15 to 24 as well. Harry hasn't. His hormones had barely kicked in when he died so he hadn't suffered the radical ups and downs of puberty and the eventual mellowing out that occurs. In fact, from that viewpoint, he is closer to 11 than 14 since he hasn't started puberty yet. Harry will seem precocious but otherwise not that different from an 11 year old boy.

Now for my (apparently) regularly scheduled diatribe on canon and fanfic tropes. Today's subject is 'nice goblins'. Where the _hell_ did that fanfic trend come from? Goblins have_never_ been shown as nice. Cut-throat businessmen? Sure. Cut-throat cut-throats? Definitely. But _nice_? Never. The only times they're remotely personable is when they have something to gain by it. Even then if they go to shake your hand you damn well better check their other for the dagger it's inevitably holding (see: Griphook). I bring this up because people seem to have decided Clawhammer was a 'nice' goblin. No. Clawhammer was an account manager of a valuable client. When there is someone making you lots and lots of money it is in your best interest to be polite to them. Common sense.

Right. Speech done. Try to guess who the developers are. It's not that hard.

Two more things before we're done. First. I'm looking for cover art for all of my fics but I'm too lazy/incompetent to do it myself. So hit me with a PM if you're interested.

Second. Taking recommendations for avatars, origins, achievements and perks to use in this fic. No guarantee I'll use them but I'll (try to) give credit where it's due if I do. To clarify. Avatars define race, lineage, etc so demon Harry or veela Harry, that kind of thing. Origins are how he was raised after Voldemort's attack. Assume all perks from Fallout or Elder Scrolls have been considered already.

Right. Think that covers it.

Thanks for reading.


	5. Mockingbirds and Jealous Folk

A/N: I had to write Ron this chapter. You people better be grateful.

A/N2: I wrote the above before writing this chapter. I say again, I really do hate Ron as a character but I did my damndest to be fair in this one. His canon dialogue fought me on it at every turn.

-(-)-

The month before Hogwarts was taxing. Thirty-one days of near constant reading, either of the Manual to understand the game, or brushing up on his first year curriculum; a task apparently necessary according to the aforementioned Manual. The way it was explained, while he would retain an amount of knowledge from one game to another, the skills he had acquired in spell casting were gone. Nothing proved it better than when he had tried to cast a stunner at an oblivious Vernon only for a wimpy spark to emerge from the tip of his wand and limply sink to the floor. While he knew the basic steps for casting spells, actually casting them would take practice. And so, with his newfound exemption from the laws of underage magic use, he did just that.

When September first finally rolled around, Harry was certain he was as prepared as he could possibly be.

The trip to King's Cross station had been uneventful. Vernon, while hateful and vicious as always, was accommodating in the tasks required to get rid of Harry for nine months, dropping him off at the station before driving off as fast as he could legally manage, not even bothering to taunt Harry about finding the platform.

The Weasleys were there already as before and Mrs Weasley was in top form. Shouting about muggles in a crowded train station and probably looking like a mad woman to the very muggles she was shouting about. As well as anyone that cared about the Statute of Secrecy. Harry briefly wondered why they hadn't just Apparated to the platform before dismissing it as not important. There was a strong temptation to go over and say hello, but he didn't know them yet so instead forced himself through the hidden portal to nine and three quarters.

The view on the other side was perhaps not as inspiring as it had been the first time. Partially owing to the fact it was Harry's fifth time, partially because the same question he had about the Weasleys came to mind about the Hogwarts Express. Why use a train when almost every magical can Apparate, or Portkey if they don't know how? Tradition, maybe? But how long have trains been commonplace, really? And how long had it taken for Wizarding Britain to appropriate them, slow-moving antiquity worshipping culture that it was?

Also not important; and likewise set aside. For future Hermione asking, perhaps.

Continuing to purposefully not notice some unfamiliar familiar faces, Harry got on the train and claimed his compartment, stowing his luggage and summoning the manual to kill some time.

**Social Status**

**There are three levels to define a relationship between you and another person. Interpersonal relationships are fluid, so consider this level to be a guideline for how close you are to someone, whether getting closer or drifting apart.**

**Acquaintance**

**You know this person but not very well. You could pick this person out of a crowd and casually spend time with them but can't rely on them for much.**

**Friend**

**You know this person well. Their well being has become important to you as yours has to them. In most cases, relationships at this level can be relied upon.**

**Lover**

**You are intimately involved with this person on a somewhat regular basis.**

**(Relationships of this type are not necessarily required to reach the friend level first, or ever for that matter.)**

**Partner**

**You care deeply about this person and are intimately involved on a regular basis. This level is where a wife or serious girlfriend would be.**

**Life Debts**

**There are many things that can affect the status of a relationship but what has the most clear cut effect is the Life Debt. Being a Champion, you can expect to save lives from time to time. If your intervention in a situation means that a person will live when otherwise they would have died it will create a Life Debt. The effects it has are twofold. First, the debtor would feel compelled to maintain a minimum of an 'Acquaintance' level of relationship. Second, the debtor would feel a small compulsion to help the holder of the debt. The compulsion is minor and can be shrugged off easily but will be a constant reminder that they owe someone their life and in a life or death situation, the debt may override their self-preservation instincts in favour of keeping the holder of the debt alive.**

**There are two ways of paying off a Life Debt. First is the obvious option of the debtor saving the holder's life in return. If this occurs the debt is paid and forgotten. Alternatively, if both parties acknowledge the debt and agree on a suitable payment of their own free will, the holder's receipt of that payment will erase the debt. There is no minimum or maximum value of the payment whether through monetary value or favours but both parties **_**must**_ **agree to it.**

"Anyone sitting there? Everywhere else is full."

Harry's eye started involuntarily twitching. The feeling of deja vu would only get worse as the day went on. He had a sudden worry of how strange it would look for him not to react to his first experiences in Hogwarts. He could try to fake the awe of seeing the castle for the first time or the fear when the ghosts appeared out of nowhere. But he shook the thought off as being silly; no one would be paying attention to _him_ while all that was going on, Boy-Who-Lived or not.

With the benefit of future experience, he saw Ron's awkward fib for what it was. The Express doesn't _get_ full. Ever. It magically expands to add more compartments for the times the student population increased. Not to mention this year's intakes were conceived during the war and very few families would want to have kids when infants were targeted specifically as a scare tactic. So yes, he knew Ron was fibbing. But he was understandably nervous and alone what with starting in a new place with new people. Harry admitted to himself he was the same way the first time and never really grew out of it. And didn't that just come back to bite him in fourth year when Ron...

Ah. Well that sobering line of thought put a damper on the little reunion he was hoping for. Still, Ron wasn't that yet. And this time he might never be. That thought in mind, Harry finally nodded and Ron stowed his belongings and sat down opposite Harry. The Weasley twins briefly stopped by the compartment to tell Ron where they'd be and left without giving Harry a second glance.

Ron shifted uneasily for a moment before summoning the courage to introduce himself. "I'm Ron. Ron Weasley."

"Harry."

Ron seemed to stop breathing for a second before blurting out, "Harry?! Are you Harry Potter?!"

"That'd be me."

"Have you got the... You know..." Ron pointed to Harry's forehead.

Harry felt a bit ill. He recognised this was more or less what happened the first time but to realise his first friend introduced himself by gawping at him and asking impossibly tactless questions was... depressing. And somewhat demeaning. But he wasn't going to give it up that easily. Ron was acting the part of the prat now but he wasn't always like that! So, swallowing what little pride he had, Harry brushed his hair aside to show the scar he received the night his parents were murdered.

"So that's where You-Know-Who-"

"_Yes_." Harry answered tightly, trying to keep his teeth grinding to a minimum.

To his credit, Ron noticed he was perhaps broaching a touchy subject and ceased his questions, deciding to stare out the window instead.

The snack cart came by at one point and Harry decided against buying nearly everything off it and instead limited himself to a couple of pumpkin pasties, one of which he dropped next to Ron, and some every flavour beans. Anything that added a touch of randomness to his second (technically third) life was welcome in his eyes.

Though the cheddar flavour bean not so much.

Neville later made his not so grand entrance by asking tearfully about his toad, Trevor. After he left empty-handed, Ron complained about his own rat, pulling it out to show Harry who barely resisted the urge to snap the wretched, four-legged bastard's neck right there.

Neville returned almost immediately, Hermione dragging him along. 'She must've been in the compartment right next to ours.', Harry realised before smiling in remembrance. 'Hears someone has a problem and immediately takes charge to try and solve it. That's Hermione, alright.'

"Has anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost one." she asked in the tone she reserved for fixing things. She hadn't quite worked out the boundaries for that kind of attitude yet if Harry remembered right.

"We already told him, we haven't seen one." Ron answered.

Hermione's eyes landed briefly on the book Harry was reading, still sitting open on his lap. "Oh, is that one of our course books? Are you reading ahead?" she asked, slightly hopeful she found someone who shared her study habits.

It had become abundantly clear to Harry after reading some of the manual that the creator of the 'game' had no intention of anyone else finding out about it. To that end, several features had been included, one of them specifically for the Manual. If anyone were to see it, it would camouflage itself to look like a book appropriate to the situation. Glad to know this in advance and avoid an awkward situation, Harry closed the book and surreptitiously glanced at the cover. Upon seeing the book the Manual had chosen to appear as, he blanched.

"It's, err... It's Hogwarts: A Hist-"

He didn't even finish saying the title before Hermione was sitting uncomfortably close to him, grinning from ear to ear. "Oh, it's fascinating, isn't it? Have you read the part about William the Conqueror trying to lay siege to the castle and his court wizards couldn't make the slightest dent in the wards?! The Headmaster at the time supposedly didn't even know they were there until he looked out a window and saw them leaving. Hogwarts Castle is supposed to be one of the most secure places in the world, Muggle _or_ Magical! I'm Hermione Granger, by the way." She finished as she stared at Harry expectantly.

"Harry Potter."

Hermione sucked in a breath, whether it was a gasp or she just really needed to breathe before launching into another gushing babble, Harry couldn't guess. "Are you really? I know all about you, of course. I got a few extra books for background reading and you're in 'Modern Magical History' and 'The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts' and 'Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century'."

"More accurate than the books that make me into some weird combination of fairytale prince and superhero, I hope." Harry commented, after a second of parsing through what she had said.

"Oh, no. Nothing like that. They just say you defeated He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named when you were barely a year old and somehow survived the killing curse which no one had done before."

_'Right. Nothing outlandish, then.'_ Harry thought with a touch of sarcasm.

"So do you know what house you'll be in? I've been asking around and I hope I'm in Gryffindor, it sounds by far the best. I hear Dumbledore himself was in it, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad. Anyway, we'd better go and look for Neville's toad. You two had better change, you know. I expect we'll be there soon."

"Well that was... intense." Harry opined after Hermione shut the compartment door behind her. "I feel a sudden urge to have a quick kip, you know?"

"She was fixated on you the second she saw that book. Rather you than me to be honest." Ron commented, inwardly relieved that the tension had been relieved from his earlier blunder. "So what's your Quidditch team?"

"Don't have one."

Ron was flabbergasted. "You don't have one?! How- Oh, right. You probably don't even know what it is, yeah?" he asked rhetorically. "Trust me, you'll love it, best sport in the world by miles! Here's the way it works..."

And so Harry was subjected to the ins and outs of Quidditch again, feeling oddly nostalgic about it, if a tad weary what with it coming right after Hermione's rapid-fire questioning. This went on for a good while before the compartment door was once again opened. Harry knew though, that this introduction would be much easier to deal with and more fun at that.

"Is it true?" The pale, blond boy asked in a drawl. "They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter is in this compartment. So it's you, is it?"

"Yes?" Harry answered, feigning caution as he looked from Malfoy to the goons Crabbe and Goyle and back again.

"Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle." Malfoy introduced, noticing where Harry's attention was. "And I'm Malfoy. Draco Malfoy."

Ron coughed to suppress a snigger.

"Think my name's funny do you?" Malfoy asked indignantly. "No need to ask who you are. My father told me all Weasleys have red hair, freckles and more children than they can afford." His attention turned from Ron to Harry again. "You'll find some Wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there." He finished, offering Harry his hand to shake.

Rather than take the hand, Harry tilted his head quizzically. "Malfoy... Wasn't your dad a Death Eater?"

Malfoy bristled, but apparently didn't rise to the bait. "He was exonerated due to being under the Imperius curse. It's also truly cruel of you to bring up the horrors he must have endured in that time."

Surprisingly enough, Harry believed that Malfoy believed that. Perhaps his father drilled that response into him. It would make sense; but Harry was not to be deterred. "Right, right. Sorry, that was tactless... Hey! Wasn't your granddad a Death Eater, too?"

"What's your point, Potter?" Malfoy asked in what might have been a growl if he didn't have the voice of an eleven year old. His fists were clenched tightly at his sides.

"I'm just saying these 'right families' you're talking about were most likely _also_ 'under the Imperius', as it were. And there's no way to know when that 'Imperius' might flare up again and I find myself on the wrong end of the Cruciatus for several hours. So I think I'll have to decline."

"You'll regret this, Potter." Malfoy promised in what might have been a snarl before attempting to slam the compartment door. Unfortunately for the blond he had the ideal aristocratic body type. That being thin, graceful, and weak as a kitten because of it; so it was really hard to be sure if he slammed the door or not.

"So..." Harry said after a pause, "Should we get changed?"

"Y...Yeah." Ron stuttered, slightly in awe of the verbal smackdown Malfoy had just received. It didn't beat turning him into a donkey or something but Merlin it was close!

The announcement they were nearing their destination sounded just as they'd finished getting changed. Ron looked nervous and Harry decided not to pretend to be the same. They followed the other students shuffling off the train and onto the platform and Harry quickly picked out the smiling face of Hagrid over the others' heads. Following him with the other first years the group of youngest students oooh'ed and aaah'ed at their first look at Hogwarts. As Harry had predicted, no one else noticed he was less moved by it. There were still some strong emotions going on since he had been gone so long, but recapturing the wonder of seeing the castle for the first time was just too great a task for his acting skills.

Like before, Harry's boat was filled by Ron, Neville and Hermione, the last of which beamed a smile at him as she sat down. It seemed befriending her would be much easier this time. _'I might not even need to save her life this time.'_Harry thought to himself sardonically.

The boat ride seemed to take less time this time around. Perhaps because of the lack of anticipation and worry that accompanied his first introduction to Hogwarts. Before Harry knew it, they'd passed under the bridge, Neville had his toad back and Hagrid was knocking on the castle door. "The firs' years, Professor McGonagall." Hagrid announced proudly as said professor opened the door, looking stern as always.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."

The first years followed McGonagall through the castle, through the Entrance Hall and into the small antechamber where students wait to be sorted. She then gave her introductory speech that Harry really didn't want to listen to since it was mostly rubbish. 'Your house is like your family' and all that rot. Gryffindor were fairly hit or miss in that department as far as Harry was concerned.

When she was done, the last minute panic started for the first years. Harry couldn't help but feel a little schadenfreude at watching them. He now understood why no one told the first years what the sorting consisted of.

He nearly pissed himself laughing when the ghosts showed up but hid it quite well, facing away from the crowd leaning into a wall.

The sorting itself went about the same as Harry had expected. Hermione went to Gryffindor, Malfoy went to Slytherin and so on. Harry tuned out the whispers that started when his name was called, deciding instead to just get it over with he strolled up to the stool he was to sit on and placed himself down, barely even hearing all the hushed words being thrown around about his appearance. He pulled the hat down over his head and-

"_Well, well! Back again, Mr Potter?_"

-(-)-

A/N: Dammit, Ron! I try to make you seem less arsehole-y and what dialogue do you give me?! Tch. Best I could do was have him _stop talking_. At least then the damage is minimal for people who like him, impossible as that is for me to comprehend. Ron will not be a main character. I have to say that definitively now. I can't make him a good guy, making him a bad guy is... still kind of out there. So instead, he'll just be there. On the side. Like furniture. A thing you don't pay attention to because he isn't important.

Right. That bloody endeavour is over. Moving on to things I like writing. Like Hermione-babble. That was fun. Now, I've done a rant on HP fanfic tropes for four chapters running. Might as well keep it going.

'Heir of Suchandsuch' stories. There are a _lot_ of these out there, whether it being the focus of the story (heir of Emrys/founders being what you might call the 'worst offenders') or just a plot point in a much larger tapestry. A reviewer mentioned simply having this plot point in a story instantly labels it as a certain type of story where having Suchandsuch a name instantly makes you a walking deity. Those stories are a bit silly, I admit. However, I fail to see how simply including the plot point makes a story worse. Worth noting in the books Harry had a famous name and stacks of cash in his vault. The thing with 'Heir of' stories is the way it can augment the character and his motivations. Throughout the books, Harry is determined to be 'normal' when everyone expects him to be great. Now, he knows those expectations are based on incorrect information so they can was over him and he can do what he wants. But add a truly famous name; a lineage to be proud of? Maybe being 'just Harry' becomes just a little bit insulting to his ancestors who accomplished great things? Maybe he decides he wants to be worthy of the name?

I dunno, it just seemed an interesting angle to take to me. But writing off a story because of a plot point that could go so many places is a bit silly. Think I rambled a bit on this one. Take with a pinch of salt I guess.

Right. Next time. Final event before the prologue is over with and Harry gets his first look at his stats.

Thanks for reading!


	6. Handshakes for Strangers

"Again? I don't know what you mean." Harry replied half-convincingly.

The hat seemed to chuckle in Harry's head. "Well you certainly aren't acting like the headstrong Gryffindor you were last time, are you? Or was it the time before last?"

"You aren't supposed to know this much." Harry pointed out, admitting the truth but staying vague. No way to know how much the hat could _really_ read, after all.

"No need to play coy with me, Mr Potter. I am a tool with one purpose and cannot betray it to others – at least not others limited to this level of reality – so I am permitted to know more or less all that you know."

"More or less?" Harry asked.

"More, actually. I know that this is the last part of the 'prologue'. After this, the real game begins. It is my role to give you your final choice, the same choice I gave you the very first time you came to Hogwarts."

"So it was true, then. What you said in second year." Harry reasoned. "It's our choice which house we join in the end."

"Correct. I read your personality, your likes, dislikes and ambitions and use those to determine which houses would welcome you. Then I make a recommendation. Or if you only fit one house, put you in that one by default." the hat explained.

"So the first time I could've been Gryffindor or Slytherin and you recommended Slytherin."

"Oh, yes. Slytherin is, after all, the house of grand ambition! And yours may well have outshone all of them for how hard it would be to achieve."

Harry was confused. "But I didn't have any ambition then! I just wanted to be left alone so I could be-"

"-normal?" The hat interrupted. "'Just Harry'? Do you truly believe that would have been possible, knowing what you know now? Much as you may hate to admit it, you _are_ the Boy-Who-Lived to the entirety of magical Britain and hold a certain level of fame throughout continental Europe also. Further, you are a Champion. Greatness will follow you for your entire life no matter what path you choose. To be normal, to be just another man living a simple day-to-day life, it was never really an option."

"You're wrong!" Harry stated angrily. "Or you're lying! Even if you're not, I don't care! It's my life and if I want to get rid of the stupid titles and fame I didn't earn then I will!"

"So it's not that you don't want it, it's that you want to _earn _it?"

Harry didn't have an answer to that. He had never really thought of it that way. In fact, he had never thought about his fame as anything other than a nuisance he never asked for. It never crossed his mind to think of _why_ he hated it.

… It _had _been nice to be congratulated after the first task. Everyone so impressed and even proud...

"So which house would you like?" the hat asked, suddenly changing the subject.

"I thought you had to suggest some first? And give a recommendation? Isn't that what you _just_ said?"

"Well the suggesting thing is out the window. You'd fit in any of them. But for a recommendation I'd say Ravenclaw. You're certainly thinking things through more and asking more questions-"

"Wait, wait, wait." Harry interrupted again. "'Any of them'? But I was only Gryffindor or Slytherin last time!"

"See? Asking questions! Just like a Ravenclaw!" The hat said, amused. "But, yes. Any of them. Slytherin because of your determination to do better than last time, even stealing on a semi-regular basis. Doing anything to achieve your ambitions is the mark of a Slytherin. Ravenclaw because of your asking questions of things most would ignore or put down to cultural quirks. By the way, the Hogwarts Express was a concession to Muggleborns to help them feel at home, accepted by Pureblood elite because it highlighted how inefficient Muggle transportation is." The hat explained, answering one of Harry's questions from earlier in the day. "Where was I? Oh, yes! Gryffindor for that stunt you pulled on the train alone. You do realise as an emancipated minor if you'd said all that to Lord Malfoy he could've challenged you to a duel on the spot, eleven years old or not? As for Hufflepuff, you may in fact be loyal to the point of stupidity."

"Ron isn't that bad!" Harry protested.

"I wasn't speaking of Mr Weasley. Still, there you have it. You could go anywhere. But again, I suggest Ravenclaw. Your newly inquisitive mind will be less... problematic there."

"But if I go somewhere else than Gryffindor, won't all the stuff I know from the future be wrong?" '_And all my friends are there._' He tried not to say, forgetting this conversation was in his mind, the mind the hat was currently _reading_.

The hat snorted. Somehow. "And how accurate do you expect that knowledge to be in a year? Or even a month? Or right now? You are different to how you were last time, Mr Potter. People will react differently to you based on that alone. And what rule forbids you having friends in other houses?"

The object on his head was silent for a moment, "But, as you know, the final decision is yours." The hat said before going silent again.

A second later, another game menu appeared in Harry's vision.

**Slytherin**

**House of the Ambitious! Achieve your goals at any cost!**

**Expression +, Dilligence -**

**Ravenclaw**

**House of the Learned! Smart enough to stay off the front lines!**

**Intelligence +, Courage -**

**Gryffindor**

**House of the Brave! And the dim-witted!**

**Courage +, Wisdom -**

**Hufflepuff**

**House of the Loyal! All for one and one for all!**

**Wisdom +, Intelligence -**

-(-)-

**CONGRATULATIONS!**

**PROLOGUE COMPLETE!**

**Save game?**

**{ YES } NO**

-(-)-

"RAVENCLAW!" The sorting hat bellowed to the hall at large, prompting some exuberant applause from the Ravenclaw table as well as polite applause from the Hufflepuffs who applauded for everyone. There was no applause from the other two tables. There were disappointed mumbles from Gryffindor and even one or two grumbles about Ravenclaw stealing an 'obvious Gryffindor' from them. And the reasons Slytherin didn't applaud were obvious to anyone who knew the House's history for the past twenty years.

Harry stood and placed the sorting hat on the stool before walking to his new House table. The blue lining and emblem of Ravenclaw was added to his robes. As he walked, he looked around to gauge reactions to what many would call an unexpected sorting. Ron was surprised but so were many people, staff included. McGonagall maintained her stern appearance, the very slight pursing of her lips the only indication she was caught off guard. Dumbledore looked contemplative. Filius Flitwick, Harry's new head of house, was grinning like a child being told there was to be an extra Christmas this year. Hermione, sat at the Gryffindor table looked disappointed, likely regretting her choice to ignore the hat's recommendation.

Harry sat between Anthony Goldstein and an empty space that would doubtless be filled by the next Ravenclaw to be sorted. Or so Harry thought, until he saw a girl he believed was named Mandy climb out of her seat further up the table and sit at the empty spot to his right side. The event brought laughter from any who saw it happen and caused the poor girl to blush vibrantly, bashfully looking at Harry and then away again.

After Harry, Lisa Turpin was the last Ravenclaw to be sorted. While he had held on to a small hope that Ron might be sorted into Ravenclaw, he was not at all surprised that the redhead remained a Gryffindor. He had an open disdain for knowledge and anyone who sought it at this point in his life. The sorting complete, McGonagall took the sorting hat and stool away as Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore stood up to welcome the students in his... _inimitable _style.

"Welcome! Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!"

_'Why do I look up to him, again?'_ Harry wondered to himself as the food started to appear. He noticed something odd about a couple of his Housemates. They were furiously making notes and talking animatedly while completely ignoring the food in front of them. "Excuse me, what are they doing?" Harry asked the boy sitting across from him who looked familiar.

"Hm?" the boy responded before looking where Harry was pointing. "Oh, Grant and Jason? They have this theory that whenever the Headmaster says something weird he's actually talking in some form of code and giving out secret messages to people who can figure it out."

Sitting next to Harry, Anthony looked at the two wannabe code breakers. "They get anywhere?"

"Well last year they thought he was giving out the location of the lost hoard of the Celtic dwarves. They went out to search for it over the summer and didn't find bugger all."

"That's not true!" Either Grant or Jason defended, apparently having been listening. "We found an axe! That proves there's something there!"

"It was made of plastic, you pillock! It was probably a Muggle toy!" The familiar boy argued back. "Roger Davies. Good to have you in Ravenclaw." He introduced himself as he returned to his meal.

Harry finally remembered him. Roger Davies was Fleur Delacour's date to the Yule Ball during the Triwizard Tournament. It didn't go that well for him if Harry remembered correctly, though he would be hard pressed to name anyone who had a good time at that fiasco.

"Think there's really anything to it? The code thing?" Harry asked Anthony as he started putting together his own meal.

"Dunno." Anthony answered. "People say he likes to do things like that. Talk all cryptically, that is. But he's got to be what, hundred nine, hundred ten years old by now? Bet he has a few screws loose. Anthony. Call me Ant." Ant offered his hand to shake, which Harry did.

"Harry. So I take it you're half-blood then? With the screws phrase and all. I mean wizards would probably say 'few ingredients short of a potion' or 'his potion's been stirred a few too many times' or something like that, right?"

Ant didn't get chance to answer as he was interrupted by Roger spewing pumpkin juice over the table. "Oi! We're trying to eat here, you know!" he said instead.

"S-sorry." Roger apologised, trying to hold back his laughter. "Your first guess was right, Harry. The second one is still a saying but... It means something different."

"Well what's it mean?" Harry asked.

Roger sniggered again. "I'll tell you when you're older."

That was all Harry needed to hear to put the pieces together. Seamus and Dean used to talk about such things in fourth year with Ron sometimes joining in. So he decided if Roger was going to have fun at his expense, he could have fun at Ant's expense. His Dad was an infamous prankster, after all and it would be a shame to let down such a grand tradition as – Oh, sod it. He just wanted to be the one to take a shot at someone else for once. "Figures he wouldn't tell us." Harry sighed, dramatically. "Hey, maybe you should ask your parents the next time you write them. They'd probably know, right?"

Roger hid his head in his arms and started shaking with silent laughter as Ant pondered the suggestion. "Well you were right about me being half-and-half. My mum was magical so she might know. Yeah, good idea. They wanted me to owl them tomorrow anyway. They're a bit overprotective I suppose, with me being born right after the w-..." He cut himself off as he realised who he was talking to. "Uh... I mean-"

Harry shook his head with a placating smile on his face. "It's fine to talk about the war around me. We were in hiding then for my sake. As long as you don't-"

"DO YOU REMEMBER THAT NIGHT?!"

Harry nearly jumped out of his skin at the sudden volume before the hall seemed to go suddenly silent. He turned round to see Mandy breathing heavily and looking horrified beyond belief. _'-Do that.'_ He finished silently.

She hadn't meant to ask it that _loud_! She wanted to know so badly and spent most of the feast working up the nerve to ask but now that she had, everyone was staring at her, judging her, for asking such a rude and cruel question as whether he remembered the _night his parents were murdered!_

Mandy Brocklehurst watched him as he turned to face her. She expected so many emotions to show on his face. Anger, hurt, sadness, grief, there were touches of all of them. But above all there seemed to be resignation written into his features. As though he knew the question was coming but was still praying that maybe for once no one would ask.

_'Because people always ask.'_ She realised suddenly. Of course they do! To wizardkind, that night was the end of an era filled with pain and fear and loss and the start of a happier time. But to Harry, that night was the night he lost his whole family and the start of people constantly dragging it out of the past where it belonged.

A feeling of shame slammed down on her like a ton of bricks and she fled through the only open door, leading into the entrance hall.

Professor Flitwick cast a small charm on the 5th year Ravenclaw prefect's tie, making it vibrate ever so slightly to get her attention before indicating she should go after the fleeing girl. Mandy couldn't really go anywhere; most of the castle was locked down during the opening feast so no first years could get lost in situations like this one. But it was best she not be left alone and that someone bring her back when the situation ran its course.

The great hall remained silent. Some hoped Harry might answer. Some just didn't want to be the first one to speak after something like that.

_'If nothing else, I have to thank that girl for the opportunity.'_ Harry thought ruefully._ 'This way I can nip this Boy-Who-Lived thing in the bud.'_ "In fairness to her, I'm guessing a fair number of you wanted to ask that same question. For those not in the know, ten years ago this Halloween, the Dark Lord Voldemort-" Cue shrieks of fear, "-attacked the Potter family at Godric's Hollow. During that attack, James and Lily Potter – my parents – were killed trying to protect me. In his attempt to do the same to me, the Dark Lord somehow died himself."

"To answer the asked question: Yes. I do remember that night." His eyes flicked to Dumbledore, then McGonagall. "All of it."

Madness ensued. It seemed every single student thought if they shouted loud enough, their question would be heard above all others. The cacophony was only silenced by a sound equivalent to a cannon being fired coming from the staff table. Albus Dumbledore seemed the likely cause being the only one with his wand out.

"I hardly think now is the time for this, Mr Potter." Dumbledore said in a kindly voice.

Harry nodded in response. "I agree. I was about to say the opening feast is supposed to be a happy occasion and that asking me questions about that night is quite securely on the rude side of etiquette at any time, let alone now. Still people will keep asking the questions unless I give them a satisfactory answer, don't you think, Sir? Perhaps another evening when things have calmed down some."

Dumbledore was briefly floored by Harry's argument. Not only had he dismantled a significant amount of Dumbledore's information control, he had done it in a way that would make Dumbledore the antagonist if he tried to shut it down. A significant portion of his preparations for Voldemort's return _depended_ on the Wizarding World continuing to see him as a paragon of the Light. If he stopped what Harry was doing now, it would cast doubt on his impeccable image. The worst part was, based on his Legilimency scans, the boy didn't even know he was doing any of it! As far as Harry was concerned, he was just _asking nicely_!

"Are you sure you're up to it, Harry?" Dumbledore asked in a grandfatherly tone. "We wouldn't want to push you into reliving such a traumatic event."

Harry gave Dumbledore a strange look. "You _did_ see what just happened, right? Tell you what, show of hands; who wanted to ask me that question?" A few hands went up. "Don't be shy. Not judging." Several more hands. Ron's, Hermione's, the twins', Ant's and Roger's included. "There you go. I can do it once or..." He did a quick rough count of the raised hands. "A couple dozen times. More if people still didn't want to raise hands. Come to think of it, I didn't count the staff table. Or the public at large. Best to have a dicta-quill on hand to make a record that can be sent to the Daily Prophet or something. I do this once, I can start earning recognition for things I do, rather than things people assume I did."

Dumbledore sighed resignedly. "Very well. Saturday after dinner would be a good time for that, I believe. Now, that out of the way, I believe dessert is about to be served."

As if those were the magic words, the plates were cleared of the main course to be replaced with the variety of desserts only seen at a Hogwarts feast.

**You made a public speech!**

**Your Expression has significantly increased!**

**Quest added! "The Truth, The Whole Truth and... Some Other Stuff"**

The opening feast regained almost all of its jovial atmosphere, though it held a tangible undercurrent of anticipation. There were more whispers and pointing in Harry's direction but he had expected that and knew it would end in a week or two. At least in the school, anyway. When Mandy returned a hush briefly fell over the hall again as she sat on her own at the end of the Ravenclaw table. Deciding it would be hypocritical of him to forgive Ron for something and then later scorn this girl for it he took his plate and moved to sit next to her again. "Maybe we should start again. Hi, I'm Harry." He introduced himself and offered his hand.

She took it gratefully and shook it with surprising vigour, gripping it like a lifeline. "Mandy. Mandy Brocklehurst!"

The next ten minutes or so were spent with small talk about what they thought classes would be like. Since Harry was supposed to be Muggle-raised and therefore new to all this he listened patiently to the 'better informed' girl who was apparently most excited for transfiguration.

After the plates disappeared, Dumbledore made his final announcements. You know the ones; don't use these things, don't go here or you'll die, don't go there either or you'll die, Harry had heard it all before,

**Priority Quest added: Mystery of the Third Floor Corridor**

The first years were led to their dormitories by the 5th year prefects; in Ravenclaw those being Penelope Clearwater and Robert... something. Harry didn't quite catch it.

It turned out instead of having a password like the other three houses, the Ravenclaw common room (at one of the highest points in the castle, naturally) required answering a riddle to enter. Harry was quite sure that would get old quite quickly. The sphinx had been bad enough.

The common room itself had everything you would expect in a room designed for Ravenclaws. Lots of blue and bronze and many, many bookcases, all filled to bursting with books. The domed ceiling painted to resemble the night sky was nice though. The girls were directed to an archway on one side and the boys the one opposite. Unlike Gryffindor tower, the dormitories were not up several flights of stairs (thank Merlin for small mercies), but in fact surrounding the common room directly. The first year boys dorm could be described as 'cozy'. Each occupant had a small desk next to their bed. A single, full-length mirror was hung on one wall. Harry wasn't sure whether the room was small or it just seemed that way because of the extra occupant; Ravenclaw had six first year boys including Harry.

Speaking of the other occupants, four of them decided to turn in immediately. Ant took parchment and quill from his trunk and began to write._ 'Probably writing his parents.'_ Harry guessed. Shrugging Harry went to bed as well, or so it would seem to the others. Closing his bed curtains, he thought the word '**Character**' and a screen appeared in thin air. Along the top were three tabs labelled '**Stats**', '**Skills**', '**Perks**' and '**Other**'.

The stats tab was on by default and showed his current stats.

**STR: 12**

**MAG: 10 (+2)**

**AGI: 14**

**END: 12**

**LUC: 15**

That made some level of sense to Harry. His time at the Dursleys' had involved a great deal of running, dodging and manual labour. So he got a bit of a bonus based on that. And his wand added a modifier to his magic stat. Nice!

**INTELLIGENCE: 2**

**WISDOM: 1**

**EXPRESSION: 1**

**COURAGE: 1**

**DILLIGENCE: 1**

That also made sense. Being in Ravenclaw gave him a bonus to Intelligence but a penalty to Courage which negated the starting bonus he got when he chose the standard options at the start of all this. Nodding to himself, Harry poked the skills tab and was overwhelmed by the long list of skills available.

**Arithmancy: 5**

**Battle Magic: 5 (+10)**

**Black Magic: 5**

**Beast Mastery: 5**

**Charms: 7**

**Divination: 5**

**Elemental Magic: 5**

**Firearms: 5**

**Heavy Weapons: 5**

**Healing: 7**

**Herbology: 10**

**Mechanics: 7**

**Melee: 5**

**Potions: 5**

**Runecrafting: 5**

**Science: 5**

**Speech: 5**

**Stealth: 10**

**Survival: 8**

**Transfiguration: 7 (+10)**

**Unarmed: 7**

Most were at their base level of 5 though one or two had starting bonuses of their own. Stealth and Herbology in particular. Then there were Battle Magic and Transfiguration which received modifiers as his magic stat had.

Next he hit the tab for perks. There were only two entries. **'Parselmouth'**, and '**Bird of Prey**'.

**Parselmouth:**

**You are able to speak a magical language that serpents can understand and respond to.**

**Bird of Prey:**

**You are a natural on any flying vehicle.**

_'So not just for bro__oms, then. Good to know if I ever want to try my hand at being a muggle pilot for whatever reason.'_ Harry thought as he moved on to the 'other' tab. This one had only one section in it but had space for others. The available section was the **Relationships** viewer. There were six entries so far.

**Rubeus Hagrid: Friend**

**Ronald Weasley: Acquaintance**

**Hermione Granger: Acquaintance**

**Roger Davies: Acquaintance**

**Anthony Goldstein: Acquaintance**

**Mandy Brocklehurst: Acquaintance**

So the only person he had a concrete friendship with so far was Hagrid. That wasn't so surprising.

Having satisfied his curiosity about his current stats and finally finding an actual save point, Harry thought the word '**Close**', which accordingly closed the menu. After everything was all closed down he allowed himself to fall asleep.

A whole new day of a whole new life. With a few familiar decorations thrown in, of course.

-(-)-

A/N: Quick update, eh? Don't get used to it. I flubbed an interview on Friday and needed to get my spirits up somehow. Minor change to the systems. Knowledge and Understanding are now Intelligence and Wisdom, respectively. Less confusing that way.

What else, what else, what else...? Not much else. Need a rant topic. SLICERNESS, GIMME A RANT TOPIC!

Ah! The all knowing Slytherins! Thank you, Slicerness.

So did any of you know that Daphne Greengrass is actually a political savant who memorised every aspect of magical government at age seven? And that she also knows exactly how to manipulate all of that knowledge in such a way as to outwit politicians decades older than her with ease? Geez, for how much people bitch and moan about Mary Sue characters in fanfiction, you'd think this girl would be less popular. But it turns out this character made up almost entirely from fanon is in fact one of the more popular characters for people to write about. I don't get it! Do I really need to point out these kids are _kids_? Sure you could argue the families would be training their kids from a young age but look at Malfoy! Do you really think Lucius would stand for Draco's incessant whining if he'd spent his formative years drilling etiquette and protocol into the brat's head?

It might be a tad hypocritical of me to have a problem with Daphne fics considering I like Hermione as a character and think she's fine. But the thing is, Hermione has flaws. She's bossy, overly proud, has a tendency to think she's right by default and is jumping into a culture of which she has little to no understanding. Daphne, on the other hand, is in her element in magical society, always analytical, knows how to make the most out of situations and knows when to stay out of the way. A well-rounded character needs more flaws than that!

It seemed more appropriate to have this particular rant here since I'm introducing my own pseudo-OCs in this chapter. Anthony is pretty standard as an eleven year old and a Ravenclaw. He likes to learn but is very naïve. Mandy is not as fangirlish as she appears but got a bit starstruck for a moment. It happens. Happened to me once. Her character is not that developed yet, having run away from me when I was writing the chapter. I'll try to flesh her out a bit in future chapters.

Rant done. Right. Now I need to plan out the next two months. Should be interesting. Also, if anyone has an idea for a perk, feel free to suggest it. Mostly we're looking for miscellaneous perks that don't fit into skill requirements.

Thanks for reading!


	7. This is No Fairytale

"You knew all along, didn't you?" Anthony asked accusingly.

"Que? Moi? C'est impossiblé!" Harry responded in mock offense.

"Speak English! Or at least stick to one language!" The blond boy requested exasperatedly.

"Sorry." Harry apologised. Mandy had been going on at him about learning foreign languages since it was supposed to make learning things easier in general. Harry didn't get how that was supposed to work and he especially didn't get how learning both French and Spanish at the same time ever seemed like a good idea. But it ended up being good for his Wisdom level for some reason so he was fine going along with it, even if it did leave him switching languages mid-sentence on rare occasions.

"My mum and dad just owled me back." Ant continued. "Along with a long and... disturbing letter," He shuddered involuntarily, "They sent me these."

Harry looked through the pile of leaflets Ant had dumped on his desk. Among them were titles such as 'My Changing Body', 'Growing in New and Fun Ways', and 'Sex and Other Fun Things You're Starting to Think About but Still Too Young For'. The last one was Harry's favourite. It really got to the heart of the matter. "Your parents gave you 'the Talk' in a letter, didn't they?"

Ant's expression gained a 'thousand-yard stare' quality to it. "Mum charmed it so I had to read the whole thing once I started. There were things in there about my parents... I never wanted to know."

"Oh, it can't be all that bad, surely."

"Dad shaves his bollocks. He recommends I do the same."

"Ah... Maybe we could bribe a crooked Auror to Obliviate you?" Harry suggested.

"I hate you, Harry." Ant said resignedly before setting the offending letter on fire.

The first week of classes hadn't been so bad, really. Monday was the busiest day for Ravenclaws and they started the first week on Tuesday, giving them a first week that was light on classes. As for the classes themselves, he had the basic knowledge as though he'd read the textbooks a few months previous, meaning he could answer most questions if prompted. This was made even better when he found out he got an Intelligence bonus if he answered a question correctly when randomly prompted by a teacher. That only happened a couple of times between Tuesday and Thursday. But knowing that in advance was so very useful. Because on Friday morning the Ravenclaws had potions class. And Harry had been prepared.

-( Le Flashback! )-

The lesson had been familiar so far. Snape hadn't changed his routine at all between the 'Claw/'Puff class and the Gryffindor/Slytherin class. Sneering at Harry, speech about bottling fame and all. Then came the moment Harry had been waiting for.

"Potter! What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Terry Boot had raised his hand.

Harry's lip quirked ever so slightly. "A sleeping potion. Sir. The Draught of Living Death."

**You answered correctly!**

**Your Intelligence has increased!**

Snape sneered again. "Wouldn't be much of a Ravenclaw if you hadn't done _some_ studying, eh Potter? Shall we find out when you got lazy? Where would you look if I asked you to find me a bezoar?"

This time Michael Corner raised his hand.

"In the stomach of a goat. Sir." Harry answered.

**You answered correctly!**

**Your intelligence has increased!**

Harry's lips curled upwards in a tightly hidden smile. Snape's eyes narrowed slightly and if anything he sneered harder. "What is the difference between moonkshood and wolfsbane?"

No one in the class raised their hand. If anyone actually knew the answer they got the _subtle hint_ that it didn't matter at that moment.

"They are the same plant... Sir."

**You answered correctly!**

**Your intelligence has increased!**

Snape was frustrated. That had been a trick question that should have been two years ahead of the brat's current level. A cursory Legilimency scan revealed no trickery. Potter's spawn really _did_ know those answers.

And he was _grinning_! The brat was _mocking him_! "Name three ingredients of the Polyjuice potion!" Snape growled out. _'NEWT level. There is no way he can answer this!'_

Harry had to allow a grin to show if he didn't want to burst out laughing. Of all the questions Snape could ask to try and stump him he asked _that_! "Leeches, powdered bicorn horn and shredded boomslang skin!" He answered, still grinning.

**You answered correctly!**

**Your Intelligence has significantly increased!**

**Your Intelligence is now Level 3!**

That tore it. Harry couldn't hold back anymore and literally fell out of his seat, writhing with laughter at the knowledge that Snape had unknowingly actually taught him something. He was so overcome he didn't even hear Snape taking fifty points from Ravenclaw.

-( Le Flashback Fin! )-

That had been a fun day. Better than Thursday was. While both Charms and Herbology were with the Gryffindors – meaning he could spend time with Ron and Hermione – things hadn't gone too well. Ron had spent the first half hour of Charms bad-mouthing Hermione before realising Harry was... less than sympathetic. That is until Hermione had spent Herbology simultaneously picking his brain and correcting him on barely significant minutia. Those classes were... taxing. But Harry wasn't going to give up on his old friends that easily.

However, there were more immediate concerns for Harry to think about. Tomorrow was Saturday so he had to get his account of _that night_ in order. Dumbledore had summoned him to his office at one point and... _advised_ against describing his living arrangements at the Dursley's home. For his family's safety, for his own safety when he went back in the summer, to avoid sullying good people's reputations because of a single decision 'taken the wrong way'. The last one gave Harry pause. Dumbledore's reputation would take a knock but he was Albus Percival etcetera Dumbledore. He would come out the other side a bit worse for wear but still the paragon of the light side people saw him as.

McGonagall on the other hand... Well she would make the ideal scapegoat for the public's ire, wouldn't she? Harry really did want to see Dumbledore take his lumps for the one thing Harry truly held against the man, but he wasn't sure he could go through with it if someone who held much less blame ended up being hurt far worse.

-(-)-

"Rita Skeeter is here?" Harry asked with surprise and no small amount of disdain. He and Professor Flitwick were waiting in an antechamber off of the great hall as the rest of the school finished their evening meal. Harry and Flitwick having eaten in the kitchens to avoid being pestered by those who couldn't wait.

Professor Flitwick showed no surprise that Harry knew who Skeeter was. Ravenclaws tended to know more than one would expect. He had long ago grown used to it. "Yes. One of the students took your suggestion of inviting a member of the press and ran with it. Naturally the Prophet sent one of their most... _respected_ journalists." he explained.

"There are some people out there with dicta-quills to refute the rubbish she writes, right?"

"Some." Flitwick confirmed, not denying Harry's assertion about her articles. "Worst comes to worst, you'd have the entire staff of Hogwarts..." He paused and rethought that last bit, "_Most_ of the staff of Hogwarts on your side." He took another look out into the Great Hall and noticed a new face with a small entourage. "And the Minister for Magic, apparently." He said, eyebrows raised.

_'Fudge showed up?'_ Harry wondered, momentarily surprised. _'Oh, wait. Politician. He'd be mad to pass up this opportunity when I may as well have handed it to him in a golden envelope.'_ "If he tries to give me an award afterwards I might end up punching him. If you'd stop me that'd be grand." He requested of Flitwick.

"If it comes to that, Mr Potter. But I'd rather you show better control than that."

"Fair enough. Could you do me a favour before I start though?"

In the Great Hall, Dumbledore stood as the dinner plates vanished. "If I may have your attention, please. You may remember during the opening feast, Mr Potter requested he be given the opportunity to recount the events of October 31st 1981 from his perspective. However, if I may make a request of my own to our students and esteemed guests," He paused and nodded meaningfully at Fudge, who waved as the students turned to look, "Please be respectful. I expect this will be difficult enough for Mr. Potter without interruptions."

Having said his piece, Dumbledore performed some quick transfigurations, turning the space in front of the head table into a small raised podium, complete with table and chair. It was lower than the staff table but still high enough that Harry would be able to address the whole audience properly. Naturally Snape muttered something about 'putting the brat on a pedestal'.

Taking his cue, Harry entered the Great Hall, Professor Flitwick following before taking his place at the staff table. As Harry was taking his seat, Flitwick muttered "Accio Quick-Quotes Quill". Four acid-green quills shot into his open hand; two from Skeeter – one in her hand, one in her bag – and two from two Slytherins. "I'd appreciate you not giving your usual slanderous treatment to an eleven year old, Ms. Skeeter." Flitwick said louder and with an uncharacteristically serious expression. He had suffered from her quill himself during his time on the professional duelling circuit. "If you require a Dicta-Quill I'm sure one of our students would be glad to lend you one."

Harry might have been wearing a victorious smirk at stopping the so-called 'journalist' from slandering him in advance. Unfortunately for him, the reality of what he was about to do was starting to settle in as he stared at the... really rather large crowd in front of him.

A brief, uncomfortable silence settled over the hall while Harry came to grips with his nerves. "S-sorry. This is... harder than I thought it'd be."

"We understand, Harry my boy. Take your time." Dumbledore chimed in, glad to be a comforting presence.

"Right... Right. Thank you, sir. Umm, could I get some water or-" Harry started to request before a glass popped into existence on the table. "Right. Elves. Forgot about that. Thank you." He said to whoever supplied water as he tended to his very dry mouth.

"So I'd ask where I should begin but... Well, the only reason I'm up here is to talk about that night. And it's not like I could give some background since I don't remember anything before then." Harry explained awkwardly.

"Excuse me." Skeeter stood up, much to Harry's (and unknown to him, most of the staff's) annoyance. "Sorry to interrupt," she said, not sounding sorry at all, "but are you saying that night was in fact your first memory?"

The silence was heavy as his audience waited for the answer to Skeeter's question. Harry sighed, before saying in a quiet voice, "Yes."

There were no follow-up questions. No great furore of people discussing what they had just learned as there had been during the Welcome Feast. Just a hush as all occupants of the Great Hall realised this was not to be a story of good's triumph over evil as some had been expecting.

"Ms. Skeeter," Flitwick said, attempting to keep the growl out of his voice, "I respectfully ask that if you have further questions, you refrain from voicing them."

"The people have a right to-" She tried to protest.

Flitwick was having none of it though, and for the first time many students saw the face of Filius Flitwick, Duelling Champion several years running. "Allow me to rephrase. Stay silent, or I shall eject you from the premises myself, am I clear?"

She was visibly irritated but retook her seat and stayed quiet. How long it would last was anyone's guess.

"Should I...?" Harry half-asked as he looked at Professor Flitwick, the short man giving him a nod to continue. "Right." Harry swallowed. "The first-" he began before stopping himself. "I remember... Mum was putting me to bed, I think. I remember her leaning over my crib, smiling at me. I'm actually glad. Because I remember that night, I know clearly who my mum was... and that she loved me." Harry admitted wistfully before realising what he'd just said, and to whom.

"Ah." he uttered, running his hands into his hair to hide the wiping of his eyes with the heels of his palms. It was partially effective. People wouldn't notice for, oh, at least another minute. "I-I was a bit too honest there I think." Harry said, clearing his throat. "Sorry about that."

"I heard a crash. I don't know what it was. Then a man shouted from what sounded like downstairs. 'Lily, it's him! He's here! Take Harry and run! I'll hold him off!" I... I assume that was my dad. I mean, no one else was supposed to know where we were." He scoffed. "But I suppose _someone_ did."

It was at this point that Harry realised he had forgotten his plan to slip Pettigrew's name into his story somewhere and that the best opportunity had just passed him by. Fortunately for him, forgetting was probably the better course. There was no way he could alter this story without it being blindingly obvious. He took a deep breath and another swig of water, emptying the glass, a refill being placed in front of him within the span of a second.

"I don't know what Mum was doing. She was writing and drawing things on the floor and walls, then covering them up. She kissed me on the forehead and the door was blown open."

"He didn't look how you'd expect. I did look him up when I went to Diagon Alley. No pictures of him that I could find. You think of a Dark Lord you probably think bald, fangs, red eyes, maybe even snake features what with the whole Slytherin thing he went for. But he looked...normal. His skin was pale, but no more than anybody else who spends most of their time inside. He had normal dark hair and a square jaw, I dunno. I might've mistaken him for a normal bloke were it not for this... presence, that he had. Something that screamed at you that this person or whatever it was was very _wrong_. I remember starting to cry."

"Mum begged him. Pleaded with him not to kill me. To kill her instead. Another thing that confuses me still. I know the way he worked back then. He killed thousands, tortured almost as many. No one I've met, nothing I've read described him as having mercy. But for whatever reason he seemed hesitant to kill her. He could have thrown a Killing Curse in the same motion he used to blow open the door but... I don't know. When she wouldn't stand aside as he'd demanded..."

"I remember her lying there. Her..." Harry swallowed. "She had turned to face me as she fell. I remember wishing she hadn't. The light in her eyes I saw a few minutes before was gone and wasn't coming back."

"I don't remember what he said as he pointed his wand at me. I couldn't look away from... There was a green light and then nothing until I woke up being taken somewhere else."

"That's... That's everything."

Harry dared not look at his audience again. His attempts to stay the waterworks had failed miserably. Had he looked up, though, he would have found he wasn't alone in his tears. He was startled by a hand on his shoulder. Looking from the arm to its owner, he saw Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge with a sombre expression on his face, bowler hate held to his chest with his left hand.

"Mr Potter. I don't know what happened that night. I'm not sure we will ever know what it was that let you survive in his place. But whether it was you, your mother or your father," He said, offering his hand to shake, "I would like to say thank you. On behalf of all of magical Britain, to you, and to your parents," He finished as Harry took his offered hand, declaring one final time in a firm a voice as the man could make, "Thank you."

**QUEST COMPLETED: The Truth, the Whole Truth and... Some Other Stuff**

**+4000 XP**

**Honest! + Karma!**

**Your Expression has significantly increased!**

**Your Expression is now Level 2!**

**LEVEL UP!**

**LEVEL UP!**

**LEVEL UP!**

-(-)-

A/N: Oh. Sweet. Jebus. That whole second half was so very draining to write. Like, you don't even know. I'm praying it came out well because I do _not_ want to have to go back and redo it.

So hoping everyone had a good holiday and all that. Mine was alright. I actually fixed up the earlier chapters a bit. Three significant changes if you don't fancy going through 'em again. One: Pettigrew owed a life debt and acted on it in the graveyard scene. Two: James Potter's legal name has been changed to Junius Charlus Potter. Fits for several reasons that I won't bother listing. If whoever it was that pointed that out could let me know it was them I'll put it in this A/N. I think the answer is trapped in the review ocean right now (so many reviews!). Three: There is now a full list of skills at the end of chapter 6. If you think I've missed one... please be sure it's as significant as the others before P M ing me about it.

Rant time! And I have a legitimate reason for this one!

Logician. Do me a favour, broseph. The next time you review, SIGN IN so I can respond! You left like five long and in-depth reviews that I would've been glad to respond to! Sure you were on the verge of flaming in a couple of them but I'd still have addressed your points fairly. I didn't agree with most of them but I'd've been nice about it, honest! Hell, in the last review you actually made a very good point about Molly seeming to pass over Ron in favour of Harry. That's a great point! It even made me sympathise with the twat a tiny bit. If you're gonna put that much effort in, at least sign in so we can chat about it, mate.

That goes for the rest of you too. If you've got stuff to say, especially when it comes to criticism, I'd like to be able to go over your complaints so I can improve as a writer. Please?

Right, I think that's everything. Oh, wait. Before I get a dozen reviews asking about it. Yes, Harry levelled up three times. That quest wasn't supposed to come up until fourth yearish but he jumped the gun. Yay for him.

Thanks for reading!


	8. So You Know

"Awww! He looks so sad! I wanna hug him!"

"Maybe wait until he's a bit more used to things before doing something like that? I don't think he's quite reached the point where he could understand... Well, anything at all, really."

"Oh, please. Don't go off on another one of your speeches about the order of things, brother! Besides, hugs are universal!"

"Please don't interfere when we have barely gotten started, sister. Rather spoils the fun, don't you think?"

"Hmph! As though you two would know anything about fun!"

"Oh? Do remind me, who put this entire system together again? Hm? Who was it?"

"Hahhh... You did."

"So I did! And a marvel of ingenuity it was, if I do... say so... myself. Huh."

"What 'huh'?"

"The social stat checks aren't firing. He shouldn't have been able to go toe-to-toe with the old man like he did. Or speak in front of the school either. His expression wasn't high enough."

"Ha! Your great 'marvel of ingenuity' and it's already not working properly!"

"Yes, yes, it _is_ still a beta, remember. Can you fix it, Merc?"

"Hm? Oh, yes. Easily. It's just a matter of whether I reset him back to his last save or let it go on as is."

"Oh, leave him be, brother! Seems dreadfully unfair to have him go through that again when it was clearly so hard for him! Especially when it was _your_ fault."

"Har har. Fine. The patch will go through when he wakes up."

-(-)-

Harry hadn't hung around after telling his story. Immediately after the Minister for Magic left the premises Harry retreated to his dorm in the Ravenclaw tower escorted by Professor Flitwick. He headed straight for bed, not allowing his dorm-mates the chance to say anything. He hadn't been in a fit state to deal with that. As it was, he was plagued with nightmares that seemed determined to keep him wallowing in those horrible memories.

When he awoke, he was greeted by a bright light above him making a quiet beeping sound. Upon further examination, it seemed the light wasn't actually above him, rather it stayed precisely within the centre of his field of view. The word 'OPEN' started to flash over the light.

"... Open?" Harry said aloud, expecting it was another vocal command.

The light shone brighter before it dimmed and a timer appeared, counting down. "**Testing. Testing. Ah, excellent! This is a pre-recorded message on behalf of MercuNorn Systems. I am the lead designer, Merc. Once again, I would like to thank you for agreeing to beta-test the Champion Game system. As it is still in beta, naturally there will be some hiccups occurring during your experience. One such hiccup has come to our attention. There have been at least two occasions where social stat checks have not occurred when they should have. Past events will not be corrected. However, as I speak, the system is being modified so that this particular bug will not happen again. Please be aware of this as you continue to test our product- What?**"

Some muffled sounds could be heard. "**What do you mean? We got rid of the Speech skill when we built the social stats – Oh, buggering hellfire! Er-herhem. We will also be removing the Speech skill as it is redundant given the social stats.**

**Kind regards,**

**Merc, Design Lead of Champion Game"**

"... Okay?" Harry muttered quietly. _'So that was the guy in charge of all this. Sounded like... a bloke. There is absolutely nothing I can do with any of that message. Except maybe the stat check thing. Guess I'll find out what that means soon then. The manual wasn't very clear.'_

A quick check of the time showed Harry had quite some time before breakfast started. This was a good thing because not only did it mean there was time before he had to deal with the outcome of last night, it also gave him time to try levelling up.

"Character." Harry said aloud and was rewarded with his character screen. The stats were identical save the Speech skill being missing, his expression being a level higher and the glowing 'LEVEL UP' button. Harry pressed it and the character screen showed his current skills and arrows to increase them. Deciding his first priority was to get good at magic again, he spent 10 of his 16 skill points on Battle Magic and 3 each on Transfiguration and Charms. Upon spending his last skill point, and passing a standard 'Are you sure?' check, the screen changed again to show a list of perks.

**[Affinity]**

**[Cunning Linguist]**

**[Gobstopper]**

**[Gun Nut]**

**[Kneecapper]**

**[Ladykiller]**

**[Like Father, Like son]**

**[Mummy's Boy]**

**[Socialite]**

**[Tech Head]**

**[Unstained]**

**[Witchin' Wheels]**

"What the? Is there a way to find out what these are supposed to do? I mean what's 'Ladykiller' when it's at home? Sounds creep-"

'Ladykiller' lit up and the screen swapped back to the standard character screen.

"... y." Harry sighed. Selecting the perks screen, he checked the description of the perk he just 'chose'. For whatever reason, there were descriptions when he chose them but not while he was making a decision on which to get.

**Ladykiller:**

**Have an easier time dealing with those of the feminine persuasion (note: not necessarily female)**

-(-)-

On a far higher plane of existence, a certain lead designer had the bright idea of adding descriptions to the perk selection screen. And it had absolutely _nothing_ to do with how most of his sisters were glaring at him.

-(-)-

"That... was the best accident ever. Of all time." Harry declared, expecting some good days ahead. When certain parts of his anatomy started working again, of course.

Continuing his levelling, Harry selected level up again. This time he brought his Potions to 10, Transfiguration to 15, Unarmed to 10 and Healing to 10. He hit the perks screen again.

**[Affinity]**

**[Cunning Linguist]**

**[Gobstopper]**

**[Gun Nut]**

**[Kneecapper]**

**[Like Father, Like son]**

**[Mummy's Boy]**

**[Socialite]**

**[Tech Head]**

**[Unstained]**

**[Witchin' Wheels]**

"... There has to be a way to find out what these do before I choose." Harry thought, summoning the Manual and running a general search for 'perks descriptions'. One entry was the general outline of the perks page of the character screen. The next seemed to be what he was looking for.

**On the following pages you may find descriptions of the perks that will be available to you upon levelling up based on your current stats and skills. We elected not to include a full list as... Well, that would make things a bit easy, wouldn't it?**

**Affinity: Unlock your natural affinity to elemental magic with ONE element.**

**Cunning Linguist: Learn languages faster (note: some languages – like Parseltongue – require special abilities to speak and/or understand)**

**Gobstopper: Once per day, silence a person for one hour.**

**Gun Nut: Firearms skill increases at 1.5x speed.**

**Kneecapper: +10 to combat stats when facing LARGE category creatures or greater**

**Like Father, Like Son: Transfiguration skill increases at 1.5x speed**

**Mummy's Boy: Charms skill increases at 1.5x speed**

**Socialite: Increase one social stat category by a full level**

**Tech Head: Mechanics skill increases at 1.5x speed**

**Power of SCIENCE!: Science skill increases at 1.5x speed**

**Unstained: Grants immunity to Black Magic Dependency**

**Witchin' Wheels: Skate on pads of magic (30 minute limit per day)**

So the descriptions were in the Manual. That was... inconvenient. But Harry wasn't left entirely on his own to guess which one might be useful so he couldn't complain much. Besides, they all seemed useful anyway. Some more than others (he couldn't think of a circumstance where he would use 'Black Magic' so that one seemed a waste) but still. Harry did a quick search for 'creature size category'.

**Creature size categories are sorted by their longest of the three most prominent dimensions (height, width, length).**

**TINY: 0 – 2ft**

**SMALL: 2 – 4ft**

**MEDIUM: 4 – 7ft**

**LARGE: 7 – 12ft**

**HUGE: 12 – 18ft**

**MONSTROUS: 18ft+**

**As an example. The mundane anaconda, a type of snake, can be around 22ft in length and therefore considered a MONSTROUS category creature even though it can coil up and resemble a SMALL or MEDIUM category creature.**

Harry thought over what he had needed to fight in his past life.

A troll.

A basillisk.

A dragon.

...

"Kneecapper it is!" Harry declared, and said perk lit up and the screen changed once again.

**Familiar Perks**

**Hedwig (owl)**

**[Bulk Up]**

**[Dolittle]**

**[Eye in the Sky]**

**[Mother Owl]**

**[Protect]**

**[Stealth Flyer]**

**[Interceptor]**

Harry sighed and went back to the Manual.

**Bulk Up: Toughen up to take more and deal more damage (multi-level perk)**

**Dolittle: Communicate in English to master**

**Eye in the Sky: Share sight with master**

**Interceptor: Intercept others' mail**

**Mother Owl: Can be commanded to attack targets**

**Protect: Increase magic resistance by 10% (multi-level perk)**

**Stealth Flyer: Cannot be tracked or intercepted**

"Wow. Pretty much all of those are useful. Go with Stealth Flyer first, I think." Harry decided. Again the chosen perk lit up and he was sent back to the character screen. "One more time." Harry sighed, before realising this was actively making him more awesome in just about every way. Hard to be bored of it when you think of it in those terms.

For Harry's third and final level up, he put 5 each into Charms, Potions and Herbology and the last point in Mechanics because why not. And for his third perk he chose Cunning Linguist as it fit in nicely with what he had been doing recently.

According to the character screen, Harry needed another 1000XP for his next level. There were few methods of obtaining experience available at Hogwarts. The main methods were completing quests (like the one Harry completed the previous night) or defeating... anything, really. He could pick a fight with another student if he wished and get experience if he won. Doing that would have consequences though. So for the time being he was stuck going through the motions, attending class and such. There was supposedly one more method for obtaining experience in the form of a challenge arena but the Manual gave no hint of where it was.

He heard the sounds of his dorm-mates waking up via whatever methods they preferred. Ant and Michael's alarm charms, Kevin's old-fashioned alarm clock, or Stephen and Terry's method of being woken up by everyone else. Harry was faced with a dilemma. Get up then, and face the awkwardness in the privacy of their dorm or wait and hide behind his bed curtains until... July.

And the obvious idiom of Gryffindors charging forward didn't really apply to a Ravenclaw.

He sighed. 'Sod it. It'll only get worse if I stay here.' Pulling aside his bed curtains, he got up and started to get ready for the day. The others noticed but didn't comment.

**Your Courage has increased!**

Getting tired of what he thought was a tense atmosphere, Harry spoke up. "If you've got questions, you can ask them. I didn't really give you opportunity last night. Sorry about that."

The five boys looked at one another and shrugged. Terry elected himself spokesperson for the group. "Questions about what?"

The silence was less uncomfortable this time. At one point during the morning routine Ant paused next to Harry. "You might get some of the upper years picking your brain on whatever it was your mum was drawing. And there'll be a thing in the Prophet about it, I'm sure. Other than that, I think people are more about sympathy and guilt for pushing you into talking about it. You might want to have a chat with Mandy today."

-(-)-

Speaking to Mandy turned out to be more difficult than Harry was expecting. As soon as she saw him in the Ravenclaw common room her face turned beet red and she fled out into the castle proper. And after heading down to breakfast, it turned out she hadn't been in the great hall at all. It looked like she was so determined to avoid him she intended to skip her morning meal. Unfortunately, much as he would like to, there were certain people Harry couldn't avoid.

"Quite the show you put on last night, Potter!" Malfoy sneered before pretending to cry. "I know my mummy loved me, I miss my mummy, uwahhhhhhhhh!"

Malfoy was perhaps expecting laughter after his masterful impersonation. At least from the Slytherin table. But instead he received dead silence.

**Expression check... PASS**

"Malfoy," Harry said with unmistakable venom. "How many people in this room do you think lost family in the war? Parents? Siblings? Cousins? Aunts and uncles? I'd even say a fair majority of them were decent people too. And then we have you. Spoilt little rich boy with both parents; even his murdering, raping stain of a father. Don't. You. _Dare,_ think you have the right to mock _any_ of us for those we lost. Or you won't like the consequences." Having said his piece, Harry picked up a few rounds of toast from the Ravenclaw table in a serviette and left the Great Hall in search of a wayward Brocklehurst.

-(-)-

There aren't that many places a Ravenclaw would choose to hide. Especially a first year who doesn't know the castle all that well. So when Harry headed into the library, he wasn't surprised to find Mandy huddled at a corner table reading... _'a German dictionary? Oh, Merlin.'_ "Hi, Mandy."

With a startled squeak, the poor girl practically jumped out of her chair. Twisting around to find the source of what startled her, she spotted Harry and near instantly turned that particular shade of red again. In truth, the colour complimented her dark hair rather nicely. "So you're avoiding me." Harry observed before she could get up and run away again.

"Can you blame me?" she asked sullenly, knowing he wouldn't let her get away again so easily.

**Wisdom check: FAIL**

"Well I don't know why so... A little bit, yeah." Harry answered, inwardly cursing the stat check system.

"I'm _sorry,_ okay?!" she half-shouted suddenly angry, ignoring the librarian's furious shushing. "I'm sorry I couldn't keep my big mouth shut and leave you alone and you felt like you had to tell _everyone_ about the worst day of your life! In front of all those people! And that reporter? You shouldn't..." she paused, calming down. "You shouldn't have to do that. So... I'm sorry."

There was an awkward silence. Before Harry broke it. "Feeling better?"

"What?" Mandy asked, looking annoyed.

"Mandy, we've been over this! If you hadn't said it, someone else would have. So I still would've gone through that whole thing. Besides, if you hadn't asked me that, would you have spoken to me at all?"

"... I don't think so. I was too busy trying not to do what I did." she admitted.

"There you go! If you hadn't said it, we might not have been friends. So in that sense, I'm glad it was you!" That, at least, got a genuine happy smile out of her. "Now, I don't know what you were planning to do today, but I was thinking, since we have the day off, I figure we could explore the castle a bit. Get a proper feel for the place so we don't get lost anymore."

"Harry we've been here almost a week. I think we know it pretty well." Mandy pointed out.

"True." Harry admitted. "But! I also brought you breakfast when I realised you were going to skip and Pince won't let us eat in here."

A conveniently timed growl from Mandy's stomach answered for the now mildly embarrassed girl.

**Your Wisdom has increased!**

-(-)-

Harry and Mandy were in the Great Hall by the evening meal having rather thoroughly explored interior of the castle except a certain specific corridor. There were a couple of things Harry wanted to check out but decided to take another look on his own. Floaty, glowy, spinny things.

Draco seemed to be somewhat isolated from his peers at the Slytherin table for whatever reason. Either they genuinely didn't condone his behaviour or they didn't condone his behaviour at the worst possible time as he had chosen. Regardless, he was alone with his goons and glaring daggers at Harry.

As Harry sat down at his usual spot next to Ant, Mandy taking his opposite side, Ant handed him a copy of the Daily Prophet. "Thought you'd want a look."

Glancing through it, Harry stifled a gasp. "Dear. Sweet. Merlin."

"What? What?!" Mandy demanded, having not seen the paper either.

"Skeeter actually reported the facts for once. I am honestly flabbergasted. I didn't know she had it in her!"

Mandy narrowed her eyes at him. "Twit."

"What?" Harry shrugged. "It really is surprising!"

"What about the stuff about your mum doing a ritual?" Ant asked.

"Huh?" Harry responded before checking through the article again. "Oh. Well... Yeah, I suppose it _was_ a ritual. And the ministry _have_ for whatever reason decided all rituals are evilly evil evil. So I can't fault her for pointing that out. Besides, it's not like Skeeter will gain any traction vilifying my mum for saving my life and killing a dark lord, is it?"

"So you're not bothered by it?" Ant asked.

Harry shrugged again. "It could've been much worse."

-(-)-

A/N: Right. Another chapter sorted. This one was pretty much dealing with the fallout of the previous one. And Harry levels up! Yay, progress!

So the first scene was basically me paving over a plot hole about the whole social stats thing. It's there now. It won't be a constant thing but there will be situations where it becomes more important.

Another thing I'll mention (to head off reviews on the subject. Yes, I believe Draco at age eleven would indeed be stupid enough to say something like that right then. And I believe the rest of Slytherin would avoid him for a while for being so demonstrably stupid.

… I'll be honest. I can't be bothered doing a rant this time. I was gonna do one on Snape but I guess it can wait until he's actually in a chapter again.

Next time we move forward quite a bit. Look forward to it.

Thanks for reading.


	9. A Mouthful of Loose Teeth

It had been three weeks since the start of term and things had somewhat settled into a routine. Eat, class, eat, class, eat, study, rest, study, sleep, repeat. For Harry, it was relaxing. Refreshing, even. The constant chaos and pressure of his last two years of Hogwarts weren't present and, thanks to the game's effects, his classes felt like a breeze. Snape was still a bastard and was much more successful in 'humiliating' him with impossible questions and tasks but the actual coursework (for which Snape couldn't just give him a failing mark out of spite) was easy for him.

Flying lessons were much simpler this time around. The Ravenclaws had them with the Hufflepuffs, so no Draco being a prat and no Neville being a walking target for the Malfoy's antics. That also meant there was no cause for Harry to show off his skills, however. The one time Harry tried to flex his figurative wings and pull some minor stunts on his broom, he had been harshly reprimanded for it by Madam Hooch. So no Seeker position handed to him on a platter.

Disappointing, but it was fine. Harry didn't need Quidditch to fly, after all.

Then again, it did leave a rather large empty space in his schedule. It was the only real club that the school had. A 'proper Ravenclaw' would be expected to fill the time with more study but sitting still and reading was never Harry's style. He always learned by doing.

"Potter! You have insulted the honour of the Malfoy name and I demand satisfaction! I hereby challenge you to a duel!"

-(-)-

**GAME OVER**

**YOU LOSE**

**Score**

**Age eleven: 110 points**

Harry stopped paying attention to the text there, having already decided he didn't need to read it. Instead he chose to contemplate how it all went wrong. Things had been going so well!

Malfoy had challenged him to a duel and he had accepted. Malfoy had chosen an abandoned classroom at midnight as the location and that there would be no seconds, just he and Harry facing one another in armed combat. Unknown to the other, both boys had learned a combat spell far earlier than expected. Malfoy learned Expelliarmus from Snape while Harry had learned the same, knowing such spells would be invaluable in his next few years. His second combat spell, being much more high level, still needed work to perfect.

Malfoy showed for the duel, Harry disarmed him, Malfoy refused to concede defeat, Harry popped him in the nose. Thus Malfoy went crying to Snape.

And that, Harry realised, was where things had gone pear-shaped.

The duel had been a ruse all along. Draco had been in contact with his father for some time, the Malfoy males plotting a way to deal with him. And Malfoy Sr. had knowledge of something that would make that task much easier. Harry had emancipated himself.

That alone put Harry in a dangerous position, legally speaking. Harry was considered an adult. Draco wasn't. So in the eyes of the law, an adult had 'ruthlessly' assaulted a child. Take into account that Draco was a prominent member of the Houses Malfoy - and Black, but that was sort of up in the air - and things got worse.

But of course there had to be some defense Harry could mount? Someone who could stand in his corner and argue his case? Nope. Dumbledore would have (and desperately tried to) but was rebuffed. Harry was legally an adult. Thus Dumbledore had no legal grounds to stand in Harry's defense. Traditionally, the head of House Potter would stand for him, Harry not being old enough to take that title yet. There being no other Potters, his only choice was to await sentencing.

The Wizengamot was left in a bind. Under any other circumstances, the incident would be considered nothing more than a schoolyard brawl and treated as such. But with the Malfoys kicking up a fuss and the young Potter having absolutely no defense and no witnesses to back up his testimony that it had been a duel to which the Malfoy heir had challenged _him_... They had no choice but to give a guilty verdict.

Knowing it was a child they were dealing with as well as a national hero, they handed down the most lenient sentence they could, given the circumstances. One month in Azkaban prison.

Dementors' aura can drive a full-grown man insane with enough exposure. How much worse might it be for a child to be constantly exposed to it?

Harry's psyche had lasted eight days before shattering like glass.

Nodding, resolutely, Harry spoke. "Okay... Let's try this again."

-(-)-

"Potter! You have insulted the honour of the Malfoy name and I demand satisfaction! I hereby challenge you to a duel!"

"I accept!" Harry answered with a grin that unnerved Draco slightly.

"Midnight in the sixth classroom on the fourth floor east wing. No seconds." Draco stated, laying out his terms.

Things would not go the same way as before, however. "What? No, that won't do. Don't you want people to see you defend your family's honour? No, there's only one way we can do this."

Having stated his position on the matter, Harry wandered away, leaving Draco standing there in befuddlement before following after Harry who seemed to be heading to the great hall.

"Professor Flitwick!" Harry shouted before running over to the staff table past all of the students eating dinner, a few glancing in his direction as he ran. "I've had the best idea ever!" He exclaimed, behaving more like an eleven year old than perhaps he ever had as he stood before his Head of House.

The diminutive professor himself was surprised by Harry's behaviour but decided to accommodate him for now. "And what was that Mr Potter? You know I can't waive the rule about first years bringing their own brooms to Hogwarts."

"No, this isn't about that!" Disappointing as that had been when he found out. Another year that he couldn't fly. "See, here's the thing. Malfoy challenged me to a duel just now-"

"No unsanctioned duels between students. 20 points from Slytherin, Mr Malfoy." Professor McGonagall immediately said, spotting Draco entering the room.

"We didn't _have_ a duel, Professor. Part of why I came here was to ask permission for one." _'Did I just defend Malfoy? Why did I just defend Malfoy?'_

The transfiguration professor's expression tightened. "I will rescind the point loss. Still, no duelling between students, Mr Potter."

"But why? Duelling is as big a sport in our culture as Quidditch is, right? Even happens in day-to-day sometimes, like just now! Malfoy has every right to challenge me to one after what I said about his dad. Shouldn't we learn how they work just in case? Or if we want to enter the professional circuit like Professor Flitwick did?"

During Harry's short tirade, Flitwick had begun to twirl his moustache and his smile started growing. By the time Harry was done, it was a full-blown grin. "Headmaster." He said.

"Yes, Fillius." Dumbledore answered casually.

"You said if the students showed interest of their own accord-"

"I did, Fillius." Dumbledore answered again, pre-emptively.

"So-"

"We will need to take time to iron out the details." Dumbledore interrupted, smiling a little himself.

"Mr Malfoy, if you would put your challenge on hold for the time being, I'm sure we will come to an arrangement that will satisfy soon." Flitwick promised, grinning like a madman.

-(-)-

The next Monday morning announcements included the introduction of a duelling club.

-(-)-

"Alright everyone, settle down, settle down please!" Shouted Professor Flitwick over the din of the Great Hall. The first meeting of the Dueling Club had to take place there, seeing as it was the only room in the castle capable of holding all of the students who had signed up.

Harry may have dispelled some of the mystery surrounding the events that created his celebrity status, but that didn't mean people would stop blindly following his lead.

"Welcome everyone to the first meeting of the Hogwarts Duelling Club!" The perpetually excited Professor continued once the students had quieted. "Now, for those younger among you may not know, duelling is an age old practice among our society that began centuries ago, most likely in the early fourteenth century as a way to settle disputes. Today it is mostly a sport. Some however, particularly those of high society, continue to duel to settle conflicts. If you happen to anger the wrong person, perhaps someone of high station, you may find yourself challenged to a duel. If so, you will gain new appreciation for your decision to join this club, I hope!"

"Now," He continued as he started walking along the duelling platform transfigured for the club's use. It was a wooden platform seven feet wide and thirty-one feet long. "As their little spat is the reason this club exists, I think it only fair we allow Mr Potter and Mr Malfoy to demonstrate how a duel works. If you two would please come up?"

As the two students climbed onto the platform, Malfoy felt a need to trash talk. "I should thank you for this, Potter. This would have been settled privately but you've given me the opportunity to humiliate you in front of the whole school!"

"Good luck with that." Harry answered calmly.

"I assume you two know at least one spell fit for duelling?" Flitwick asked them. It would be silly to try it otherwise.

"Of course. The disarming charm." Malfoy sneered.

"Yes sir, the disarming charm." Harry said at the same time, causing Malfoy to scowl and Harry to smirk.

"Ah, very good. Perfect for a demonstration. This duel will be fought with simple rules. You can use whatever spells you like to win, though no dark magic and obviously no Unforgivables. The winner will be decided by surrender or an inability to continue. Your opponent holding both wands, for example. As referee it will be for me to judge whether a duellist can continue. Do you understand the rules?" the professor asked.

"How about hand-to-hand? Is that allowed?" Harry asked.

"Listen to him! Potter wants to brawl like a Muggle!" Malfoy jeered.

"The chance to both beat you _and_ punch you in the face is too much to pass up, Malfoy." Harry responded.

Flitwick stroked his moustache as he thought. "There _are_ rules in tournament duelling specifically for unarmed attacks... Very well. Each unarmed attack must be followed by a spell. Is that clear? Under tournament rules an unarmed foul would earn you a penalty in the scoring but since this isn't that kind of duel, an unarmed foul is a loss. Understood?"

"Yes sir." The two combatants chorused, one rolling his eyes at the idea of it while the other formed a plan.

The three of them got into position. Draco at one end of the platform, Harry at the other and the Ravenclaw head of house at the halfway point. "Are the combatants ready?"

The two boys nodded.

"You will begin on my signal."

There was a tense silence that felt to the two students like it lasted at least a minute. In truth only around four seconds passed before...

"BOOM"

And the duel was on! Both young men fighting for their dignity in a clash that would go down in history as... two young boys flinging little red lights at one another. Really, there's no grand spectacle to be had in a duel between first years that only know a couple of spells.

Still, as the duel went on, the boy who never had to exercise tired quickly and the boy who spent his childhood doing manual labour was still going strong. And inevitably the prince of Slytherin got caught, a red spark of light struck him and just like that his wand was gone. Flying away from the platform.

And then slowly coming back?

Draco tracked his wand as it floated through the air towards him. Was this part of an official duel? Was someone helping him? It didn't matter. If he could get his wand back he could keep fighting! So he chased it. Even when it moved away, dodging and swaying away from his grasping hands, he kept going knowing it was his only chance to defend his family's honour.

He didn't notice where the errant wand was leading him.

Meanwhile, Harry was having a whale of a time, playing keep-away with Draco's wand using the levitation charm. Every dodge brought Draco closer until finally the wand was close enough for Harry to snatch it out of the air. He didn't, though, not yet.

"Hello." Harry said, grinning as Draco noticed he'd been baited to standing right in front of his opponent.

Then he was on the floor with a bloody nose.

Flitwick sighed. It wasn't the most glamorous start to his duelling club but he would take it. "Duellist Malfoy is unable to continue. Duellist Potter is the winner!"

**Duel Over**

**WINNER**

**Draco Malfoy (tutorial) defeated!**

**+100XP**

-(-)-

A/N: Short chapter. Sorry but this feels like the most natural stopping point since we're skipping a month after this.

So Harry died again. Dementors. You could argue that the Dementors were around in third year and didn't kill him but that wasn't to the extent of Azkaban. For the most part the students were safe within the castle so they were allowed respite from the Dementors' aura. Not in Azkaban. That's kind of the point. As for it effectively killing Harry, he's eleven. Think of it like an immune system. The weakest are the young and the old and all that. Willpower only does so much.

This also brings back my points that this is not a 'nice goblin' story. There were consequences to emancipation that Clawhammer knew about but didn't mention.

So Quidditch is replaced with duelling (for now). Convenient way to increase Harry's XP without him having to go on ridiculous nonsensical adventures (more than usual)! Yay! Well he might still do that from time to time anyway.

Finally, people want Harry's stats to be shown now and again to keep track. Here you go!

**LEVEL 4**

**SKILLS**

Arithmancy: 5

Battle Magic: 15 (+10)

Black Magic: 5

Beast Mastery: 5

Charms: 15

Divination: 5

Elemental Magic: 5

Firearms: 5

Heavy Weapons: 5

Healing: 10

Herbology: 15

Mechanics: 7

Melee: 5

Potions: 15

Runecrafting: 5

Science: 5

Stealth: 10

Survival: 8

Transfiguration: 15 (+10)

Unarmed: 10

**COMBAT**

**STR: 12**

**MAG: 16 (+2)**

**AGI: 14**

**END: 12**

**LUC: 18**

**SOCIAL**

Intelligence: 3

Wisdom: 1

Courage: 1

Diligence: 1

Expression: 2

**PERKS**

Parselmouth

Bird of Prey

Ladykiller

Kneecapper!

Cunning Linguist

**FAMILIAR PERKS**

Stealth Flyer (Hedwig)

Right. Stats done. There was one more thing. I started another fic a bit ago called Harry Potter: Life of a Ninja. It's technically a GOTY fic but I don't bother decorating it with game tropes. Just a straight up story. Still, those of you who were wanting the Ninja origin? That's exactly what it is. Head on over and check it out.

Thanks for reading.


	10. The Foundation of All My Strength

A/N: Read the whole chapter. Don't stop halfway.

-(-)-

A month passed.

It might seem surprising that a whole month passed Harry by and nothing significant happened at all. Perhaps he could have gone exploring again and discovered the meaning behind that strange spinning icon he saw on the seventh floor. Perhaps he could have ventured into the forbidden forest and tried his hand at battling some creatures for XP.

Certainly, he could have done those things. From an outsider's perspective, one might say he even _should_ do those things. Take advantage of his situation and all that. Thing is, for Harry, it was just so much easier for him to say 'maybe some other time' and forget about it. Fact of it is, were it not for his weekly saving of his progress and the acknowledgement of his social stats increasing, he might not have known he were still in a game at all.

So it was that Harry continued his studies, spent time with his few friends, attended duelling club and its associated first year practice sessions and generally behaved as any other Hogwarts student might. At first, it was heaven. No pressures. No dangers. No reason to fear for his life (at least at the time). But eventually, he started to get frustrated with it. It got to the point where he started challenging third years in duelling club to get some adrenaline going. He got his arse handed to him every time but that didn't matter to him. He was just looking for an adrenaline rush.

Once again, he found himself considering exploring. It was a close thing this time but he still decided against going out.

For it was the night of October 30th, and tomorrow promised to be a big day.

-(-)-

"Troll! Troll in the dungeons!" Quirrell shouted to the packed Great Hall before collapsing forwards.

'Showtime.' Harry thought. He had seen Hermione's reaction to Ron's thoughtless comment at the end of Charms class. He had a feeling like a lead weight forming in the pit of his stomach watching the girl that had always stood by him break from the loneliness and isolation.

But this was how they became friends. This was how it had to be.

**Quest added: A Friend in Need?**

'Time to go save the day.' he thought to himself as he moved towards the doors. Or tried to... For some reason he couldn't move his legs.

**Courage check... FAIL**

'What?' Harry thought, confused, before trying again.

**Courage check... FAIL**

'Oh, I get it. Funny. Now let me go.'

**Courage check... FAIL**

'No, really. Let me go! I have to save Hermione!'

**Courage check... FAIL**

"Harry!" Ant said grabbing him by the arm. "Come on, we have to-"

"Let me go!" Harry shouted frantically, Ant letting go of his arm in shock. "Let me go let me go I have to GO!"

**Courage check... FAIL**

"NO!"

"Stupefy!" a male voice sounded as a red light struck Harry in the chest, collapsing to the floor, unconscious. "Levicorpus!" the same voice, belonging to the male sixth year Ravenclaw prefect. "We need to get to the tower. I'll take him. Go on, Goldstein." he ordered the smaller boy who, after a single second of hesitation, did as he was told.

-(-)-

"Hermione!" was the first word out of Harry's mouth as he was roused from unconsciousness. Looking around frantically as he sat up he found himself in his dorm on his bed, Ant, one of the Ravenclaw prefects and Professor Flitwick surrounding him. The Professor, in particular looked to be in poor spirits. "Where is she? Is she alright?" Harry asked in a demanding tone.

"Mr Potter, are _you_ alright?" Flitwick asked. "Mr Sipple here decided to hit you with a stunning spell and seemed to have forgotten to rouse you afterwards."

"Sorry about that." The prefect apologised genuinely.

"It's fine." Harry said shortly, falsely. "Is Hermione okay?"

The professor grimaced, before saying quietly, "Could you two give us some privacy please?"

"Why do we need privacy?" Harry asked, fear creeping into his voice. "You're going to tell me you subdued the troll and Hermione is safe in Gryffindor tower." Harry stated, forcing himself to believe it. Meanwhile the prefect nodded and left and Ant followed him, trying desperately not to look at Harry as he went.

"You and Miss Granger w-are friends, Mr Potter? Harry?"

"Stop changing the subject! What happened?!" Harry asked, shouting now.

Flitwick sighed and resigned himself to being the bearer of terrible news. "Miss Granger was attacked by the troll in one of the school lavatories. She was found alive but only barely and was taken immediately to the hospital wing. Before we managed to transfer her to St Mungo's she..." He paused, stopping his far too detailed report of events, before saying simply, "She's gone, Harry. I'm sorry."

Images of a previous life flashed through Harry's mind.

_A night spent in the library researching dragons. Alone with the one person who refused to leave his side._

_Riding a Hiippogryff over Hogwarts to save his Godfather. The girl who made it possible pressed against his back._

_The friend, petrified, but still giving him the answer to set things right._

_The rule-abiding bookworm who threw aside all of her principles so they could do the right thing. "Harry, you're a great wizard, you know." She had told him then._

Did he ever repay her? For any of it? Did she even expect him to?

And now the one time she needed him to be there for _her..._

Harry didn't realise he was crying. Hadn't noticed it had been a good half hour since the diminutive professor had given him the worst news of his life. But in a moment of what could be considered a mockery of clarity, a thought struck him. "I want out." he said, looking up. "Let me out."

No response.

"End. Exit. Sod it, manual." The book popped into his hand. "Manual search: commands." Looking down the list presented to him he chose the right one. "Quit."

**WOULD YOU LIKE TO END THE CURRENT SESSION?**

**YES**

**NO**

"Yes."

-(-)-

Harry found himself at the title screen of the game again. The tears he had shed were gone. The 'him' that existed here had never shed them. But they had already begun to fall anew.

This was where he most expected the creators of this sick game to hear him.

"Is this why you did it?" Harry asked quietly before looking up. He didn't know if that was where they were, whoever 'they' were, but it was as good a direction as any. "Is this why you watched me die, only to drop me in this 'thing'? So I could let everyone down again? To give me new and _exciting_ ways to fail the people I care about most? 'Courage check FAIL! Ha!" Harry barked a mirthless laugh. "That's a new one. Harry Potter, idiot who fought a basillisk with a sword and a dragon with a bloody broomstick was too scared to move!" He finished with a yell as he slammed a fist into a nearby pillar. There was no impact. No chip or crack in the masonry, no bloody knuckles. His fist just stopped moving at it reached the surface.

Harry studied his unharmed hand before dropping his arm. "I won't let you take her from me. I won't let you take _anyone else_ from me! I'm gonna use your stupid game and its systems and levels and all that bollocks! I'm gonna become the most badass wizard who ever walked the Earth and you, whoever or whatever you are, can sit up there and just fucking watch me!" Harry yelled before marching up to the screen and slamming a fist into **LOAD GAME**.

-(-)-

Things had not gone as well as Harry hoped on his return to the Sunday before Halloween. He knew he needed courage to go save Hermione from the troll but he had no idea how to improve his. The only time he had was making a big speech in front of the school and there wasn't much chance of that happening again any time soon. He had gone through two restarts trying to find the right method but came up with nothing.

Harry could have kicked himself when he realised the most obvious solution to his problem. It was Halloween, after charms class and Harry had just walked through a bathroom door and sat himself in one of the stalls, hearing a young girl crying in the next one over.

"Hello?" He asked gently.

He hadn't been there for her before. He knew that. But he could be there for her now. When the troll came, he would be ready, but for now he was content to comfort his best friend when she needed someone.

-(-)-

A/N: Short chapter. Too perfect an ending.

So... On a scale of 1 to YEARGHBIBBLE, how much do you all hate me right now? Feel free to let me know in a review! Heheh... Heh.

Please don't lynch me.

So some of you asked in reviews why Harry wasn't taking advantage of the game mechanics as much as he could. I gave some answers. He doesn't know how being a prominent one (he doesn't play games at all so the idea of min-maxing is completely alien to him). But more important are those last remaining niggling demands in him that he should try to be normal. He needed a reason to leave them behind and by hell I gave him one. He might outwardly blame the game and it's designers but deep deep down he knows who was really to blame. So in one swoop he has a motivation to push himself forward and an 'enemy' to defeat.

Next chapter. A lot of talking. And then... THE FIRST REAL COMBAT ENCOUNTER OF THE GAME! Only took me eleven chapters.

Now, I was going to end this A/N on a rant about this tiff me and my beta Slicerness had with another author who had really thin skin. Short version, Slicer leaves some not-quite flame reviews on this guy's story. Guy blocks him for it and releases a chapter about mean ol' Slicer. I talk to Slicer about it and wrote a review including an apology on Slicer's behalf. Dude ignores the apology entirely, posts a new chapter and leaves his whine-fest up, shitting on Slicer's reputation for a pseudo-slight he already apologised for. Now, I've had people flame me in reviews before. A few of them. Know how many of them decided to sack up and apologise? One. You might even remember me bringing him up in a previous A/N and thanking him. Now there _is_ a reason I bring this up. For all you other writers and potential writers out there, if someone gives you criticism, worthwhile or not, talk it out with them. Or at least try to. No one became a better writer by listening only to the people who scream praise. If your response to criticism is to stick your fingers in your ears and go 'LALALALA I'M NOT LISTENING', it's you that suffers for it. No one else.

Incidentally, Slicer and I remain the bigger men because I didn't once give this guy's name, even though he decided it fair to block ME as well. Just saying.

Feels good to get that off my chest. Now, bring on the flames!

Thanks for reading.


End file.
